


Passenger Seat

by Bates



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Accidents, Coma, Dark fic, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Self Harm, Slow Burn, Smoking, Trauma, build up to Dean/Cas, d/s dynamics, injuries, mentions of alcohol abuse (referenced - not in the actual fic), mentions of pills (pain relief medicine), mentions of scars, mentions of self harm in the past, praying and christianity, relationship of purely sexual intent, self doubt, sex as a means of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bates/pseuds/Bates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunters don’t always stay safe. Especially not when they’re living together and turned their back on hunting. Dean and Castiel knew that when they moved in together, but Castiel never expected that a car accident could be the demon to almost take Dean away from him.<br/>Life, both past as present flashes by him as he sees Dean on that hospital bed, barely present. After six years, he realizes just how much he maybe does actually love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Two Weeks Prior

**Author's Note:**

> The masterpost for this fic can also be found over at [livejournal](http://youaregonecas.livejournal.com/14214.html) and [Tumblr](http://confusedjimmy.tumblr.com/post/131025661585/passenger-seat-a-dcbb-fic).

_ _

 

_I had a home - three in fact._

_home was four walls, and my mother’s smile, and the biggest first aid kit in Brooklyn._

_but i lost it._

_home was sleeping on the couch, and the kindness of friends, and a strong arm around my shoulders._

_but i lost it._

_home was blue eyes, and bone-crushing hugs, and stolen kisses that lit my blood on fire._

_but i lost it._

_can’t you understand that i won’t lose my home again?”_

**[because once is a mistake, twice is an accident, and three times is just irresponsible](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/post/130426399301/i-had-a-home-three-in-fact-home-was-four) // ** **c.k**

 

 »»-------------¤-------------««

 

 _Castiel wondered if he would be killed by Dean if he came home like this._ It was an idle thought as he emptied his last glass of the night, the last of probably way too many. Alex was sitting next to him, arm snaked around his waist and breath ghosting across his neck. It had weirded him out at first, when they'd first started seeing each other, but he was used to it by now. Alex had grown on him, their relationship had grown on him. Maybe more the way that it wasn't quite a relationship.

Yes, he decided, Dean would probably not be happy about it. Dean wasn't supposed to care, he really shouldn't. They weren't even that good of friends anymore, all they did was share a house and split the bills. Often, by the time that Castiel came back from work Dean was already asleep and by the time that Dean went to work, he was still asleep. 

Or perhaps not. Maybe they weren't just that. Like Castiel had settled and gotten used to having Alex around, he'd settled into a comfortable partnership with Dean as well. He would cook whenever he had time to so that Dean had something to heat up when he came home. Some nights, especially during the weekends, he'd pick up takeout. His cooking wasn't quite that good - Castiel had the ability of burning eggs or bacon without taking his eyes off the pan - so seeing the take out on the counter was probably a relief for Dean. Dean on his turn, would help with the dishes or do them while Cas was at work. Cleaning was for whoever was at home. Cas would take out the trash and Dean would lock up the house. It was almost a routine.

Castiel sighed, allowing Alex to pull him closer again. He'd put another glass in front of him, one that Castiel drowned quickly. With Alex, his promises always went out of the window within seconds. Part of him had promised himself that he'd go back home after a few drinks, after he had shrugged his week off and felt relaxed again, but then there Alex had been. Seeing Alex so close, seeing him cling to him, it messed with him. And not just with his mind. God, he had missed him.

 

**CASTIEL (01:04 am)**

_Don’t wait up._

 

Castiel hoped that Dean wouldn’t go all judging, but part of him knew that he would. Dean knew that Castiel was about as pansexual they came, even if he didn’t quite feel comfortable being out most of the time and with quite a few people that he met outside of the LGBTQIA+ community. So far, he hadn't quite created a problem of it, never really said anything when Cas left with a guy.

Growing up as a hunter’s kid, the first few years in and around Brooklyn and later the entire United States, had helped him realize that it was hardly anything to be proud of. The community wasn’t too appreciative of most other identities than cisgender heterosexual people. Now that he was out of the community and he had turned his back to them, he was more open about it. It still didn’t settle completely okay with him, the way that people sometimes looked at him or the way the slurs hit him. At least he felt comfortable going to gay clubs now, without truly caring who saw him.

“My place?” Alex’s shirt clung to his chest, hugging it in all the right ways and pulling his attention to right where it should be.

“Yes.” He couldn’t even dream of bringing Alex back to the house.

 

Alex worshiped him in a way that he had missed in it's absence, tongue lapping around his nipples and kissing down his ribs; teasing first and filthy later. Alex knew all his pressure points, knew what drove him mad and what would bring him closer and closer to the edge without even being touched. Cas's skin had always been sensitive, had always been and Alex knew it. He pushed him to a point at which he didn't know if he could take it any more. The pleasure was pooling in his body, coursing through him.

He finally came with his screams half muffled by the pillow, hands grasping at Alex. For the first time in ages pulled far enough out of his mind that the hunter instinct of keep quiet and don’t draw attention to yourself was almost ignored and pushed to the side. He wasn't a hunter, not now. Now he was Castiel the sub that had apparently done something to deserve being taken care of first, something to deserve the tender kisses and the pleasure.

Alex grinned at him as he came down from his high, fingers still gently stroking up and down his side. Castiel knew that he was waiting for him to repay the favor, to become functional again, but he needed a minute. He'd waited too long for this, had waited too long to feel somebody show their love to them in a way that was perhaps a little sick and twisted, a little unconventional. After all, Alex and he weren't lovers. Damned if it didn't feel that way now.

And repay he did. Castiel showed his dom just how bloody much he had missed him in the past couple of months. He slid his hands down his body, fingers teasing, never quite touching. God, the sounds that Alex made as he parted his lips around his cock were ungodly. He hummed around his cock, enjoying the way that Alex grasped at the sheets, fingers tangling in them. The way he whimpered his name made him almost wish that he could take Alex back and do this to him at their house, in the room that he knew, or the bathroom, kitchen, he honestly didn’t care.

He’d missed him, missed that sweet body so damn much. And he wasn’t the only one. He was achingly hard again, just wanting to have him, push him to the edge and _show_ him that he missed him. Alex knew, the little fucker.

“Want you,” he breathed, sliding up to press a filthy kiss to Alex’s lips. He mouthed the words at his neck. “Want to feel you in me.” Alex just grinned as he switched them around, his back pressed into the mattress.

“Whatever you wish for angel.” He was on his back, thighs spread and Alex working to stretch him, teasing him all the while with hands that barely skimmed his skin – as he’d done before and. While one of his hands worked, the other went down to his balls; toying, rolling them around in his hand. As he pulled his other hand free, to get extra lube, Cas whined, ass rolling back to push back onto what wasn’t there.

“Just fuck me already. Jesus. Alex.” Alex lined him up after slicking his cock up and pushed in. It stung, just a little, but that was part of what felt good, part of what he wanted. Cas _wanted_ the stretch and burn. Alex found his rhythm soon enough, hitting his prostate time after time. It was electricity flowing and pooling in his body each time.

 “Fuck,” he breathed, heart racing in his chest. “Jesus. Alex. Alex.” And he was gone. Coming all over his chest without even being touched. Alex followed soon, Cas already in a comfortable haze. They both _loved_ the post sex haze, loved cuddling while recovering from their ― let’s admit it, quite often mind-blowing ― orgasms.

No matter how rough their scene had been, they always did.

 

It was almost good enough to make him forget everything that had been going on with Dean the past couple of weeks, it was almost worth it all. Alex had always been partially no more than a distraction from what had been going on inside his head. Neither Alex nor he was in the illusion that it was anything other than that. They'd met a long time ago and been friends at first, but now, the two of them were friends with benefits at best. 

Castiel hated the way that term sounded, as if he was using Alex, but it was the truth. Life on the road got lonely. He'd been hunting pretty much solo for so long that some nights brought him down. He moved around so much that part of him had been scared, had been scared that he'd always been alone. It was the effects of being away so often and not having a home, he knew that.  He didn’t need a fancy professor or a friend to tell him that. He’d lived the life long enough.

After having to kill his mother at the age of nineteen, he’d been alone. A few times, he’d crashed on a friend’s couch, but he never had that home that his mother offered. Home could be a person, he realized. Even though they always spoke of a house to call your own, it really wasn’t the house that was your home. At least not for him, it was the person. His mother was that to him, the one who made motel rooms feel like a comfort spot and not a place where you wouldn’t want to be found dead.

Alex had made the road a partial home to him. Had made it feel a little bit more like a warm place instead of a cold hotel room where there was nothing more than a bed and a place to warm some food. Both of them knew what was going on. They would never be more than this, more than an arrangement to have sex and sometimes go out. It wasn't like Castiel didn't like Alex, he did, but not in a romantic way.

He had loved very few people in that romantic way and it always after a long while. He didn't know where that would put him on the scale, but he didn't quite care either. Alex knew that he was broken in a way when it came to romance but didn't say a thing about it. Both of them knew that it would never be more than fucking around and having a blast at night.

God, some nights they had scenes and it was the best. Castiel could get lost in his role as a sub. He could get lost in making things good for Alex, showing him just how much he cared, just how much he loved him. It made him forget all the sorrows in his everyday life, made him forget quite how lonely he really was. They had met up regularly, until Dean had come back into his life and they couldn’t meet up to arrange scenes or allow themselves to prepare for them. Even tonight hadn’t exactly been part of the plan. They had bumped into each other at the café and started talking. Their meetings usually did end up in either of their bedrooms, either making sweet love to each other or going at each other in a frantic race of getting clothes off. Castiel didn’t mind in the slightest. He always felt good after, felt comfortable. Maybe Alex _was_ sort of a home to him.

 

 

**DEAN (05:00 am)**

_Dude. Get your ass back home._

 

**DEAN (06:00 am)**

_Or you know, don’t. whatever._

 

**CASTIEL (07:45 am)**

_Screw you Dean._

 

**DEAN (07:46 am)**

_Just get home._

 

**CASTIEL (08:00 am)**

_You’re such a fucking jerk sometimes you know that?_

 

**CASTIEL (08:02 am)**

_Unless there was a fire or a break in or whatever, I can be out as long as I want. Told you that I’d be out._

 

**DEAN (08:04 am)**

_Whatever Cas, you do whatever you want._

 

**DEAN (08:04 am)**

_Next time I worry I won’t text you._


	2. 2015

 

_“there is no beauty within him. his laughs are as empty as his bottles,  
his chest heaving with something more akin to a wheeze. you scoff as you see him and yet -_

_yet you long to taste the blood and the smoke on his lips,  
to chase away the darkness from his wild soul, to calm his mind_

_he pulls you along with him, shows you his future grave and tells you there is no more death after death.  
he smiles but even now his lips are tilted downward_

_he is a paradox you cannot decrypt. you do not know if you want to._

_he puts a cigarette to your lips and tells you to experience death and you know that this is your downfall_  
because he is everything. you liken him to a wilting flower and for the first time in forever, his face softens and he tells you  
that you remind him of someone he once knew.

_he holds up a bottle and comes up to you on shaking knees. his eyes are glossed over  
and he smiles an insincere smile._

_he whispers words against your damp skin and you hate him.  
you hate him so much you have to shut your eyes and hold your breath and clench your fists and -_

_you love him. he is a paradox you cannot decrypt. you do not want to.”_

**_[dionysus was never a god](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/post/130938166986/there-is-no-beauty-within-him-his-laughs-are-as) // _ _s.z_ **

 

 »»-------------¤-------------««

 

 

**DEAN (02:00 am)**

_takin’ a cab back now._

               

**CASTIEL (02:02 am)**

_Ok! How was it? When do you think you’ll be back?_

 

**DEAN (02:10 am)**

_It was good seeing them all again._

 

**DEAN (02:12 am)**

_Weird but good. Tell you bout it when I get back_

 

**DEAN (02:13 am)**

_Should be there in twenty._

 

 

**CASTIEL (02:13 am)**

_Want me to wait up?_

 

**DEAN (02:15 am)**

Don’t bother.

 

**DEAN (02:16 am)**

_Go to sleep Cas. You need it._

 

  »»-------------¤-------------««

 

Castiel threw his phone back to the tangle of sheets at his feet, burying his face in his pillow. It was too early and too cold to be awake already. For the first time in ages, he'd actually been asleep when Dean had texted him. Castiel didn't really mind it all that much; he wanted his best friend and idiot of a roommate to be safe. In a way, he was the mother hen in their household and  _had_ asked Dean to text when he was planning on coming home.  To be honest, it was almost a miracle that Castiel had fallen asleep in the first place. Usually when Dean went out, he stayed up like a worried mother until Dean was back and safely tucked in. Hypocritical of him, because he knew that he never did the same when he went out, but those occasions were rare.

It wasn’t that he stayed up _just_ for Dean, even if it was part of it. Some nights, the nightmares were bad enough to leave him even more exhausted than the night before. Monsters haunted him ― Djinns, vampires, werewolves flooded his dreams and each time they had been there for him. Not Dean, not his mother, they were out to kill him. Sometimes, the nightmares changed and it was his mother that was out for him, wanted revenge. He could so easily her her yell at him that he was a murderer, a monster.

It was why it had been nice sleeping a little bit more than the previous days. Work had been hectic and even though Castiel was supposed to be on a break from bar duty, he’d been called in to fill in for a colleague. Jo couldn’t help that she broke her leg of course and Castiel didn’t blame her for doing it, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t suck. He had had plans that week, he'd  _wanted_ to sleep in. Dean and he had planned on spending a week lounging in the apartment in their underwear ― which really wasn’t that rare an occurrence on Sundays regardless ― and watch some movies to support Dean’s ‘ _help Cas get references’_ campaign. He couldn’t help that he hadn’t seen most of the movies that Dean and Charlie - one of their friends - had seen.

Dean had taken the week off so that they could do that, on the sole claim that they had spend too much time apart the past few months and how they bad both been working a lot. Which was true, Castiel had been working a lot of hours and Dean had been in and out of the garage. So, when the plan had blown up in their faces, Castiel had been disappointed ― they both had been.

So yes, Castiel was exhausted and wouldn’t in the slightest be opposed to more sleep, but if Dean wanted him to stay up for him, he would.  Dean had told him not to, so he just pulled the blankets back over him to at least get a little bit of warmth back.

There was a reason that he hated sleeping during the winter. It was always too cold, no matter how many extra blankets he piled on and over his legs. The bed felt extra empty, now his ex wasn’t there to keep him warm.  It had been a mutual decision a few months back, sure, but during the winter it always felt just that little bit worse, just that little bit emptier.

Castiel fell asleep faster than he usually did, didn’t toss and turn for over a half an hour. He didn’t sleep long, waking up at three am with a pounding in his skull and tears stinging his eyes, but it was sleep and it was a start. The nightmare was still right there. The same one he always had, the one Dean usually helped get rid of but they never spoke of. Because speaking of anything slightly emotional was a sin in Winchesterland.

Castiel understood. Dean had been through shit and if he could ruin the only friendship that had actually seemed to last for a little bit longer than a few weeks, he wouldn’t do it. So if this snuggling up with him that had happened over the past few weeks fell under that, Cas didn’t mind it all that much.

He couldn’t today though. Dean probably hadn’t fallen asleep too long ago and Cas couldn’t wake him up. Castiel woke him up enough as it was, he didn’t need to repeat that even more often than he did.

 

He sighed as he slipped out of his bed. Their little house had poor radiation and especially during the winter months, it was too cold to be good. His bare feet send  chills up his spine and made him shiver. He should probably start wearing socks and a shirt if he wanted to be colder, especially with the sweat still sticking to his back, but he couldn't be bothered. The cold helped him clear his head and get the dream out of his mind. 

If only he ever could get that image off his mind. Not even alcohol or the cigarettes really helped anymore. Once upon a time, it had. Once upon a time the cigarettes had offered enough distraction and the alcohol had made his mind empty and clean, pure. Once upon a time was a long time ago, before he'd even met Dean. He was too addicted to the calm that the combination provided him to stop using.

Lately, all he got was Dean yelling at him from across the room to ‘ _quit the drinking already_ ’ after he’d had perhaps a glass too much. He’d started out just telling him that he was going too far, that he was stepping the line of addiction ― Dean had seen his father slip away in addiction, he was scared, Castiel thought. Dean had started doing more, _explicit_ things, like taking his stuff away or hiding his cigarettes. Dean should know that it wouldn’t help him all that much. Cas knew where he hid his things, could always retrieve them. There were night shops open where he could get them, should he really need them.

Castiel knew that it was behavior that was more often seen in addicts than it was in regular functioning human beings. He  _should_ be able to go without without wanting them. Perhaps he was addicted, but it was his price that he chose to pay.

Sex helped. It was the only thing that really seemed to help. Before, he had Alex to distract him and pull him out of his thoughts. Some day, having him was a small blessing in disguise. Just like everybody, Alex had gone away. Alex had left his life as well. He'd called Castiel up out of the blue and without introduction told him that he didn't want to do it anymore, that he was done. Castiel had been nice and what they were doing was enjoyable ― Castiel cringed at that word ― but that he had wanted more. Alex wanted to have a chance to build a relationship with somebody that was stable and loving. Somebody that was quite the opposite of Castiel.

Castiel was unstable and insecure about a lot of things related to his body, scars that were there and his mind that spun out of control. But probably worst of all, he was unreliable, he could be moody. Alex deserved better, to feel better. So he understood why he left, understood why Alex went for somebody that was everybody but him.

 

Castiel padded into their living room, hoping to see the familiar keys on the living room table and Dean passed out on the couch. Dean always did that when he came back, fell down on the closest comfortable surface and slept like a brick until the light became too persistent and he moved to his bedroom. His heart fell when he didn’t see the all too familiar pair of shoes next to the door or his set of keys on the hook where Cas’s too hung; lonely without their comrades. The couch was empty too, not even Dean’s old leather jacket there. Dean wasn’t a guy to hang his jacket on the hooks (but then again, who did in their household), but he checked anyway, let that idle hope linger.

The hanger too was empty. Castiel still had to get his winter coats out from his closet, so his weren't there either. It was a sad sight to see. Dean's car keys were on the counter, where they always resided when he didn't go out in his baby, but that was the only sign that Dean had even been there.

“Dean?” There was no answer. His bedroom was empty. His stuff still where he had left it before leaving that afternoon. His sheets hadn’t been touched since Castiel had made the bed that morning.  “Fuck Dean, where the hell are you.”

 

Castiel settled on the couch, lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. It was almost an automatic response now, whatever what happened. Light a cigarette and watch it burn. Some nights he didn't even smoke his first one; he just watched as the flames licked at the tobacco and the paper. Part of him mourned his habits of coping, part of him really didn’t care all that much. Dean hated the smell of smoke that seemed to clung to everything in their house, the way that all fabrics seemed to tone more and more yellow as their friendship progressed.

He would die one day anyway, right? It wasn’t like it mattered if it was a little bit sooner or a little bit later. One day, the monsters that his mother had hunted and he too for at least a little while would come knocking on the door and he would lose his life because of it, because he wasn’t prepared to fight them anymore. It was bloody pathetic but it was the truth.

“Where the fuck are you,” he muttered under his breath, free hand reaching for his phone under the pillows. He’d thrown it in the mess without really paying attention to where it landed. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway. If it fell, it fell.

 

**CASTIEL (03:00 am)**

_Where the hell are you? I thought you’d be home by now._

**CASTIEL (03:25 am)**

_I’m serious Dean. Answer._

He didn’t really mind Dean going partying or whatever it was that he did when he was out all night. He had been invited along before, but he never took Dean up on his offer. Cas didn’t mind him going out, not in the slightest and he himself enjoyed going out with friends or even just alone quite a bit. It was why it had been so weird for Dean that he said no. He always looked happier when he came back, especially when it was with old friends. Castiel just didn’t feel like he should join him in it. The two of them shared a house twenty-four seven as it was, they weren’t supposed to be together that much too.

So no, he far from minded Dean going out and enjoying himself for the first time in months. It would just have been nice if Dean would actually do what he said for a change and be back in time.

He knew what would happen and what had probably happened. Dean would get in a cab and almost be home, get a text from Jo or Charlie to come drink with them and he’d be gone. Usually, he texted to let him know, but it wasn’t uncommon of him not to. All was well. That was, as long as it wasn’t a hunt that had caught his attention and he had plunged into.

Even after almost a year since he stopped hunting, he sometimes came back to their house with cuts and bruises that he didn’t want to explain. He never pushed, just cleaned and bandaged them, let Dean be. Castiel knew well enough that if he complained that he didn’t tell him and probably wouldn’t even let him clean the wounds. Just letting him clean the wounds had been a battle in its own, he wasn't prepared to do it all over again.

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

He had met Dean in a bar of all places. Castiel had never seen another Dean than the one that he met at the bar ever since that day. Once upon a time, he'd met a happier teenager that pretended not to care but still cared if his brother was okay or not. Castiel knew that version of Dean but he just couldn't imagine him anymore. All he could see was the Dean that he had met in that bar, hunched over and nursing a glass between his fingertips. A sad Dean, a lonely Dean.

That day, Dean'd been on his second glass of whiskey. Castiel had noticed him when he'd walked in on just a coke, but as he kept an eye on it, the order changed. The bartender was already shooting him looks, warning and perhaps a bit of concern. The coke had just been a step between different alcohols, to keep him from throwing up the next day.  Cas hadn’t really paid that much attention to him except that he didn’t quite know him ― or at least he didn’t  _think_ that he did ― and god that he was handsome. Once he started paying attention to his eyelashes or the way that he nurtured his drink between his fingers, he couldn’t stop looking at him every once in a while.

Cas hadn’t meant to keep an eye on him, but then a guy had walked in and Dean had looked up hopeful for a while. Once he realized that the guy -  hair reaching his shoulders and taller than both of them - wasn't who he hoped he was, he deflated again. He looked so lonely sitting there, even if it was his own fault. he'd had seen a girl sit down next to Dean, but just a few minutes and she had been gone. Whatever she had to offer, he didn’t want any of it.

That night, Cas had bought him a drink and sat down next to him. They didn’t share a word for at least an hour except Cas saying that he didn’t have to talk, that they could just sit there. So they didn’t until the guy with the longer hair left the room again and Dean seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

 

That night, he went home with Dean. Castiel wasn’t sure when they had started flirting and if either of them had actually been sober at that point. All he remembered was going back to Dean’s motel room and not making it past the door before Dean’s mouth was on him, pushing him back and kissing him hungrily, as if he had been starved from affection for too long and was now committing the feeling to memory.

There wasn’t much love in the way that Dean slid his lips down Cas’s throat, tongue ghosting against his skin while his hands tugged at his shirt and slipped under it, fingers sliding over his sides, teasing at his hips and the band of his underwear.

“I can make it good,” Dean had breathed against his collarbones, placing kisses along them, stopping where his shirt ended. He looked up, _asking_ for permission to pull his shirt off, to take it all the way. There wasn’t a fiber in his body that even remotely wanted to say no.

Dean took him apart like he knew all of his triggers; he figured out his sensitive spots within minutes. Castiel was a groaning, whimpering mess as Dean pushed into him, eventually coming with Dean moaning against his skin.

 

The day after had been awkward and weird. Both of them knew that there wasn’t really something emotionally going between them. In a way, this encounter with Dean had been what partially lead to Castiel going back to Alex. They had only met the previous day. Or well, met _again_ the previous day. They barely knew each other. It hadn’t stopped Cas from leaving him breakfast before work.

But that hadn’t been the first time they met and both of them knew that. Castiel only realized it in the morning when Castiel packed his stuff and left Dean asleep on the bed. With the sun catching on his face, he remembered. Or more specific, recognized him.

Hunter’s lives crossed often and in weird ways. He remembered being eighteen and his mother helping John on a hunt. Castiel – being a seven years older than the youngest Winchester kid – had been the one to babysit them. Or well, just Sam. He had just turned eleven a few days ago and couldn’t really take care of himself for that long, even if he had Dean. Eighteen year old Dean hadn’t made it easy for him, sneaking out of the motel room and doing whatever it was while he was out. Castiel had had his suspicions at the time. The amount of money that he was bringing in wasn’t the amount that you got from a night of hustling pool.

He doubted that he really got into trouble when he was out, after all, he had come back safely each time. It just stressed him out a little bit more than he liked. Castiel knew that it wasn’t his place to comment on it or to question what he was doing. Dean had his own ways of getting money and if that was the way, he could go for it. In fact, the things that eighteen year old Dean had done were things that Dean still did sometimes. Castiel knew now, that it was just boxing he was doing back then, in street alleys, he knew there were bets placed. Back in the day, he'd had no clue.

All he wanted was that Dean was safe and after the two weeks that he looked after Sam, he was still walking and breathing. He didn’t look good, far from it actually, but he had never actually looked healthy to start off with.

Dean had been there when his mother had passed away, when he’d felt as if the whole room around him was caving and he couldn’t do anything. He’d helped him through, bandaged his wounds and had checked in on him after. He’d barely recognized him only because he had changed. They both had, but especially Dean had changed a lot since they’d said goodbye, a few years earlier. He looked older, worn, as if he had lived a thousand lives and came back to this.

It was stupid that he hadn’t recognized him. It was clear, now that he remembered.

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

Castiel finished the cigarette and lit another one, watching the tip as it burned it the dimly lit room. There was something aesthetically pleasing about the whole thing and in all likelyhood, a previous version of him would have loved it. A less worried, more grief stricken Cas would have adored it even. Drowned in it like a girl and her Starbucks coffee. Current Cas just wanted to hear about Dean and where the fuck he was. He’d tried to resist checking his phone every few minutes, but he gave in too easily, too quickly. He’d almost send off a few more aggressive ones, deleting them all. They wouldn’t get Dean to answer if he wasn’t answering his previous messages.

 

 

 **CASTIEL (03:45 am)**  

_If you are with someone right now I am going to kill you whenever you get back._

 

 **CASTIEL (04:00 am)**  

_Please be safe._

 

It was pathetic. He shouldn’t have to care so much if the stupid idiot showed up again or not. But truth was, that idiot paid the bills with him and cooked, helped him keep their house clean and the bugs out. Dean was the one that got the blankets when he was already curled up on the couch or the one that walked through the cold to get them hot chocolate or coffee. Castiel would be the one to massage his sore muscles or let him rant about work, about cars with ignorant owners that demand that he go ahead and fix their car _right that second_.

Dean was so build into his schedule that he didn’t think that he could bear losing him. Especially like that. Especially when Castiel didn’t really know what the hell was going on. If Dean was okay or not. God. He didn’t even know if he had _reason_ to worry. He could be with somebody and having the time of his life right now.

Ashes fell to his chest, burning tiny specs in his skin before losing their warmth. He aimlessly tapped the remaining cigarette out and brushed them off his chest. His phone was back in his hands and he was dialing an all too familiar number before he even realized he was doing it. It rang and rang, until finally voicemail picked up.

“Hello, this is Dean Winchester. Leave a message or call me back, whatever you want to do.”

“It’s me. Again. I guess I didn’t call before, but I’m worried about you. Please, call?” Oh good god. He pressed the end call button, relieved to have heard his voice but at the same time, even more worried. Dean always picked up the phone when he called.

 

**CASTIEL (03:55 am)**

_Charlie do you know where Dean is? He hadn’t come home yet._

 

**CHARLIE (04:12 am)**

_Took a cab around two, haven’t seen him since. Called him?_

 

 

 

**CASTIEL (04:12 am)**

_Yeah, twice. He’s not answering. Neither to his texts. Just seeing if you know._

 

**CHARLIE (04:25 am)**

_No idea where he went, sorry! You know him tho, he’ll be fine._

 

**CHARLIE (04:25 am)**

_Keep me posted tho?_

 

Castiel hated that he had worried her by sending her a text, or at least made her anxious. This wasn’t her, or the way that she texted. Charlie was one of the few people in Dean’s group of friends that he had actually met and talked to often enough to feel confident in texting her. She was a good friend to Dean, one of the best people that Dean had had in his life, if you asked him. She was dorky and fun ― had taken to the job of teaching him about Star Wars, Star Trek and all the other things that he had missed out on growing up if he could believe Dean. Her and Jo were Cas’s favorite people when it came to Dean. Even if Jo was a trouble maker and one of his colleagues. Dean loved her.

He tried to stay away from Dean’s friends because he didn’t want to fuck up, which was always the real threat. Castiel had a history of losing friends because of his own stupidity and he had given Dean a special place in his heart. If he would lose Dean, he wasn’t really sure what he would do or how he could keep his head above water with all the bills. And not just that. Dean helped keep him sane, keep the nightmares at bay even in the slightest. He could keep his head above the water, sure, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t miss Dean. That his heart didn’t ache for him.

 

**CASTIEL (04:25 am)**

_‘course. I’m sure he’s fine and just sleeping over at a friend’s_

 

**CASTIEL (04:25 am)**

_I’ll let you know when I hear smth_

 

  »»-------------¤-------------««

                                    

The phone call eventually came in at seven am. At five past seven, Cas was in his car and driving to the hospital. Traffic flashed by in a blur, his attention having gone not to the road but to the words the woman had spoken. He should probably calm down, focus more on the road, but he didn’t care. All his thoughts were on how much longer Dean had to be alone.

Dean had almost had nobody there. John and Mary were both gone, Sam couldn’t be reached and the rest was a no show. But then they had found his cell phone and their messages and they knew to call him. Thank god that they did. There was somebody needed that had Dean’s information. The hospital couldn’t do a lot without being sure about his blood type, birthday, allergies, medical history, stuff like that. Sure they could start on him, but for the paperwork, they needed more.

If Sam wouldn’t show up, Cas would draw blood or keep calling until Sam couldn’t do anything _but_ come. Sure, the Winchester brothers hadn’t been on the same page the past few months and ever since John passed away, they had their troubles, but Dean in the hospital was something that should push that all to the side. Castiel quite frankly didn’t care about those brotherly quarrels. He’d keep calling, go to his house and stand against his doorbell if that was what it took to get him at the hospital at his brother’s side.

 

 **CASTIEL (07:22 am)**  

He was in an accident, at the hospital rn, don’t know how he’s doing or what happened exactly.  They only called me because they couldn’t reach Sam and only said that he’d been admitted. He could be okay tho.  I hope at least.

 

 **CASTIEL (07:22 am)**  

Probably not too good. I’m trying to get Sam on the phone rn but he’s not answering either.

 

**CHARLIE (07:25 am)**

_Lawrence Memorial?_

 

**CASTIEL (07:29 am)**

_Yeah._  

 

**CHARLIE (07:32 am)**

_Gilda and I are on our way. Hang in there._

 

Cas had no clue what had exactly happened, if it had been a car accident or a hunt gone wrong, but he knew that he worried, from the bottom of his heart. Dean had never been one for caution, hunters never were. Cas should know, he’d grown up with a mother that hunted things but never wanted him near any of the danger. He knew better how to shoot a gun than to do his own laundry ― something he had found out first hand because all his whites were suddenly shrunken and pink after a wash with a red shirt ― because she wanted him to be safe. She wanted to make sure if anything ever happened to her he could look out for her. He could survive. It was the only reason that she had even taught him how to hold a gun or how to shoot it. If it hadn’t added to his survival chances, she would have never taught him that.

He had lost count of how many times he had seen his father patch her up. Later when James had passed away, he had taken his role; cleaning her wounds and bandaging them up. He still remembered being twelve and picking glass out of his mother’s wounds, afraid of all the blood seeping out of the wounds like a tiny river but keeping his lips together and staying strong. Castiel was a hunter, he would be proud and hang on. He remembered cleaning her wounds and bandaging her up, remembered making her wince when he cleaned them with antiseptic. Worst of all, he remembered wanting to throw up when one of the wounds got infected and he was the one to clean them out, cut them open to let the puss out.

He remembered apologizing endlessly as he shot her.

 

 

 

**CASTIEL (07:35 am)**

_Your brother is at the hospital Sam. Get your ass here or I will get you and your gf here on willpower alone. I_ promise _you._

 

 

  »»-------------¤-------------««

 

 

**CASTIEL (07:45 am)**

_I’m not leaving until I’ve seen you Dean; I promise._

 

**CASTIEL (07:46 am)**

_Please be okay. I’m begging of you, please be okay._

 

 

 

 

  »»-------------¤-------------««

 

The hospital was too busy for it to be that early, too chilly. Castiel hadn’t bothered putting on much more than a shirt and shoes before almost running out of the apartment. Taking the other things would have taken too long, would leave Dean alone for too long. He couldn’t do that. He could have Charlie go back to pick up more stuff, but he felt too guilty for that.

 _Oh god Dean_. He’d texted him of all things, the stupid idiot. The text was send out before he even wrapped his head around the fact that he had just texted a guy that could not even answer. He’d forgotten some stuff at home, but nothing important. There was a phone charger in the Impala somewhere and that was all that he really needed.

He may be freezing, but he couldn’t care less about it. He was too worried to really care.

 

After an hour, Castiel still hadn’t heard anything. He was seated in the waiting room, fingers tapping on his knee restlessly. The plastic chair was cold and digging into his skin by now. There were a few other people waiting for news, sharing impatient looks with him every once in a while. At least they didn’t find him annoying.

Charlie and Gilda had arrived a half an hour ago and had sat themselves with him for a while. It was clear in both of the girls’ eyes that they too were worried and part of him was glad that at least some people were as well. He knew that Dean’s crew, like Jo and Ellen Harvelle, Adam, Aaron, Garth and Ash would be worried as well, but he couldn’t call them just yet. They barely had anything that they could say after all.

Castiel had no idea where Charlie and Gilda were now. They’d left to get the three of them coffee a while ago but he had forgotten to ask them where. He knew that they were bringing him some back as well but he honestly doubted that he could keep it all down. His stomach felt like it was tied in knots and even the slightest thing could make him throw up.

There were people staring at him and part of him understood why. He was wearing his bee PJ pants, like a toddler. He should go home, get dressed, but he couldn’t. Not before he had seen Dean, not before he knew that he was okay and healthy. Not hurt or at least, not hurt too badly. _Couldn't before he knew that Dean was still alive and hadn't been killed._

They were actually kind of fitting, in a weird way. Dean had bought them for him as a Christmas gift. He still remembered the smile on Dean’s lips as he thanked him for them, how happy he had seemed to make him smile. Dean had been equally happy with his miniature Impala ― a carbon copy of his Baby that Castiel had had to repaint by hand ―  that Cas had gotten him. It was one of the good memories and he hung onto the warmth it gave him.

 _It would all be okay_.

 

They came back ten minutes later, with three starbucks cups and Charlie with a jacket thrown over her arms. Cas _knew_ the jacket, knew the exact way that it would smell and feel. The way it would sit on his shoulders as if he was a kid wearing his father's jacket. It had been John Winchester’s in ages past, before he’s passed away and left his boys on their own. Dean had started wearing it and created his own faded patterns in the leather. It was cold on his shoulders and arms, but it was already better.

“He left it at my place,” Charlie shrugged before handing it to him, having the good grace to wait until it was on to pass him his cup. For now, he let the warmth soak through the paper and warm his hands.

He hadn’t known just how cold he was until the heat started growing on him a little bit. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Charlie had this look in her eyes, pity mixed with sadness. It stung, seeing her like that. He didn’t need pity ― she could save it for when she went to see Dean. “Needed something not to make you look like an overgrown toddler.”

“Got them from Dean actually, last Christmas. So if you want to blame anyone, blame him when he wakes up.” Castiel said, a slight smile on his lips. "And you just  _made_ me look like a toddler, just saying."

“Will do.” She smiled a little too. "And yeah, I see that."

“Mr. Novak?” He was up and next to the doctor within seconds, glad to finally have at least _something_. He was faintly aware of Charlie and Gilda following him to the doctor that was waiting for him in the front of the room. “I’m Doctor Milton, the doctor in charge of Mr. Winchester.”

“How is he?”

“He just came out of surgery, so we have to wait, but stable for now. We have to wait until he wakes up to get a better view on the situation, to get a better idea of how his brain his coping. He took quite a hit.”

“Can I see him?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop the words. He didn't even know if he was allowed to see him.

“I’ll bring you to him,” Doctor Milton said, “but just you for now. Your friends should probably wait downstairs.” Numbly, he saw Charlie nod from the corner of his eyes as he followed the doctor to where he would find Dean.

 

  »»-------------¤-------------««

 

The sight of Dean was terrifying. Castiel wanted to reach out, stroke his hair away from his face and have a better look at all those tiny cuts, but there were too many wires and tubes in the way. No matter how incomplete the sight may be for now, it was a horrible thing to look at. He could hardly stand to look at Dean so broken and bruised without tears jumping in his eyes.

“He might not look good now,” the doctor admitted from the other side of the bed, “but he is doing relatively good. Considering the crash.” Considering the fact that Dean might as well have been dead too. “I’ll leave your boyfriend and you alone.”

He didn’t even have the heart to correct the doctor and tell him that he wasn’t his boyfriend.


	3. 2008

 

_“you lost something precious –_

_a part of you, your body shredded,_

_realigned, recombined, sewn together but leaving out_

_about ten ounces of flesh, a red, pulpy mess,_

_and you thought you saw it beating_

_as they dumped it overboard._

_you lost something precious,_

_and you think it was your soul, but the truth_

_is that you lost your way;_

_you lost your eyes to see._

_so let me be your eyes, my dear._

_let me be, let me be.”_

**[I’ll show you the way home](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/post/130943554151/you-lost-something-precious-a-part-of-you) // s.s.**

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

Castiel _tried_ not to sigh as his mother ran him past all the things that he needed to pay attention to for about the millionth time. He was pretty positive that after eighteen years, he knew where the dangers were, where to get food and how to look after a kid. From the way that his mother behaved, you would have thought that it was the first time that he had somebody to look out for that could actually die if Cas didn’t threat him right.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t looked after the kids of the people that hunted with his mother before. He’d feed them and keep them busy while also keeping them safe and after a few days, their parents would come and pick them up. It was easy, especially when the kids were younger because entertaining them was easier. Especially the younger kids, he could help with their homework tuck into bed and have time for himself starting at nine pm on good days. He actually enjoyed taking the younger kids out to play some football.

He couldn’t say that he was a chef or he was even remotely good at cooking, but he had yet to meet a kid that didn’t eat the things he cooked. Castiel’s menu may be restricted to ready to cook packs and spaghetti or mac and cheese, but they seemed to like it enough. Kids weren't a difficult public. Get them hungry enough and Castiel was sure they'd eat anything.

 

No matter how he looked at it, it wasn’t that Sam was a kid. He was already eleven years old and in the hunter world he might as well be a grown up. He was old enough to hold a gun and known how to keep the monsters away. In theory, Dean could take care of him on his own without Castiel being there to help out or as a second set of eyes, but his mother had seemed to feel more reassured and comfortable knowing that Castiel took care of the two as well. He guessed that she wanted Cas to look out for Dean and Dean for Castiel. She was always worried about him having so little contact with people of his own age.

Their excuse was that it cut back on the costs when they put all three of them in a motel room together, but both John Winchester as his mother weren’t fooling him. They were just scared that something would happen. Castiel didn’t really mind it. He’d only spend a few minutes with the two of them, but he guessed that if he would put Sam in a room with a mountain of books he probably wouldn’t see him except perhaps for food. If the kid even thought about food.

Dean on the other hand was a completely different story. One that Castiel found to be quite the mystery. It wasn’t like he wasn’t friendly enough, because he was, but he had something about him, this macho _I don’t need your help_ thing. It threw Cas a little bit.

“Stay safe, okay,” Naomi sighed before pressing one of her own silver knifes in his hands. “Especially keep the little guy safe.”

“You should be the one to worry about,” Cas mumbled as she pulled him closer for a hug. “You’re out there being dangerous, but of course mom. Sam will be fine and all caught up on his homework by the time you guys get back.”

“Maybe. We’ll both be fine though. Thank you.”

“I know. Check in?”

“At night? I will whenever I can,” Naomi promised him, “but if I don’t call a few days, it doesn’t mean anything. Service could be out for all I know.”

“I know, I know.” It was almost like their little tradition now. Whenever she left, Castiel would ask her to call when they turned in for the night or whenever something major happened. Each time she said that she might not have service or may get wrapped up in the case too much, but up until that day, Castiel had always had a call before midnight. The first few years, when he was fourteen and all alone, she always chastised him about picking up when she called, because it was too late for boys to still be up. As he got older, she started asking if he had even slept the previous night and lately, the answer had usually been no. Schoolwork was crazy and he was an amnesiac. He didn’t know what else to say. He tried to lie to her as often as he could, promised her that he had indeed slept, but Castiel doubted that she ever believed a word he said.

 “John is waiting, I should go. You’ll join the boys tomorrow?”

“Yes mom. Dean’s expecting me around one to give the room a check over.” Dean and he had done some texting back and forth to arrange what either of them would bring. In the end, they had just decided on getting everything double. More salt was never that bad and if both of them were armed to the teeth well, at least they were safe for sure.

                                                                                        

His mother left him with a couple hundred dollars and a peck to the cheek. She knew him well enough to know that she shouldn’t wish him good luck or anything like that. The effort would be wasted. Naomi promised that she would call whenever she could to reassure him. It was her only promise and probably also the only promise that he really wanted her to make. He knew that if she promised more stuff, that she would only turn out not to come back. He’d seen it before and he wasn’t going to risk it. If that meant not saying goodbye to his mother before leaving and being superstitious than hell, he would.

He knocked on the hotel room twice, waiting until Dean opened up the door even though it wasn't locked. Except that it wasn’t Dean who opened the door, but Sam. 

“Dean’s out,” Sam sighed before plopping back on his bed, book opened on the pillow. “You just missed him.”

“Does he want the bed?” His backpack was still slung over his shoulder a little awkwardly, not sure where he should drop it. It had been a little while since he’d shared a hotel room with somebody that he didn’t know and the logistics of it had gotten lost in him. “Probably, right?”

“I think so, yeah,” he shrugged, “but if you want I don’t think Dean will complain about sharing a bed with me, they’re queens anyway.” It was kind of the kid, but he didn't really need the bed anyway. He was so used to either sleeping in the back of a car or a couch somewhere that beds felt too soft, too comforting.

“No, it’s fine.” He dropped his backpack by the couch. “I’ve slept on worse things than a couch.” Almost bitterly, he remembered the flimsy mattresses and sleeping in the back of the car, getting more pain in his neck each day. His mother didn’t stop at motels when they were having a difficult time getting money or keeping it. The cost of gas was high enough without the costs of motel rooms. “I’ll be fine. Homework?” He nodded. “I’ll leave you to do it. Can’t promise you anything, but I can maybe help if you don’t get something.”

“Thank you.” Not that Castiel actually thought that it would happen. He knew the kid was smarter than anything, Naomi had said that John had bragged about it, how smart he was and how he was getting the good grades in the family. How that had partially scared him, because it could mean that he dreamt of college and that was something that they couldn’t afford.

Castiel sighed before pulling the journal out of his backpack along with the pen. It had been a birthday present from his mother a few days ago and he still had to start it. He just didn’t know what to do with it. His life wasn’t exciting or anything, he had very little to write about that wouldn’t be a disgrace to the gorgeous thing. He had uncapped the pen so many times, tried to write something and then put it back away, he did it each time. Especially now.

“It doesn’t matter, you know.” Sam was looking at him, propped up on the bed. “What you write. Just write.”

 

Castiel slept on the couch that night, curled up under one of their old quilts. He had made dinner for the three of them, which Sam and he ate with their knees pulled up on their respective beds and the television playing in the background. Sam had asked if they could wait for Dean to come back for food before they ate, and they had waited. It seemed like they had waited for hours before Castiel realized that if they’d keep waiting, they could wait until midnight or later. He hadn’t said anything before putting the food back on the stove to reheat and scooped the pasta into two bowls.

“If we keep waiting, we’ll be waiting for a while. I kept some on the stove for him. He can reheat it when he comes back." Sam had nodded and eaten reluctantly with his eyes flickering to the door each time a car pulled in. They kept a portion of mac and cheese to the side for Dean, even though he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be hungry when he came back.

Sam tried so hard to stay awake until his brother came back, but ended up falling asleep with his face still turned to the door. If anything broke Cas’s heart, it was that. The hope that he’d seen in Sam’s eyes. 

 

**CASTIEL (11:00 pm)**

_Where are you?_

 

**CASTIEL (12:00 pm)**

_Your brother is worried._

 

Dean came back around one am, closing the door behind him gently. Castiel didn’t ask a thing about where he'd been or why the hell he'd been out this long, knowing that it wasn’t any of his concern what he was doing, just looked up from where he was reading and nodded at him.

“Sam waited up for you,” he whispered under his breath, eyes flickering to the tangle of blankets on the other side of the room. Sam had fallen asleep later than Castiel had wanted him to, considering that he had school “There’s mac and cheese on the counter if you’re hungry.”

Dean just nodded and ate his food cold, sitting on the side of his mattress. He didn’t say a thing as he took off his jeans and shoes before slipping under the covers and went to sleep. Castiel only wished that he could fall asleep as easily and quickly as Dean could.

 

It was only later, when Dean disappeared again the next day and came back around two, that Castiel really acted on his disapproval. He had pretended to be asleep on the couch and heard him put the money in their stash. Cas didn’t care about what it was that he did, but he was worried. Afraid that whatever it was wasn’t safe.

“Hustling pool sure makes a lot of money,” he muttered from his spot on the couch when Dean came back on day four of their stay at the room. Castiel was tired; he’d been there all the time and was tired of seeing nothing but the four walls of their motel room. Sure, Dean had to go away  and go out. It was just that he didn’t see the disappointed look in his brother’s eyes when the door pulled shut or how he sometimes had to be distracted to get out of the headspace.

“It’s none of your business,” Dean snapped at him, tugging at the laces of his shoes with a renewed anger.

“I know it isn’t.” He sighed before sitting up, eyes flicking back to check that Sam was still asleep. “It’s his. He has questions Dean.”

“Well good for him. Sorry, I’m not doing this tonight, I’m too tired.”

“Dean. One night, stay for just one night. I don’t care if you sneak out after Sam falls asleep.” Castiel sighed, too awake to fall asleep now. “He already misses his father and now he doesn’t even have his brother there to take care of him. He only has a virtual stranger to worry about him. Look. I haven't been outside in four days except to play soccer with him once and he didn't even like it." Dean actually shook his head at that, a small smile on his lips. "You don't have to do it for me but I am asking you.  _One day_." He was going stir crazy staying in.

“Will it shut you up?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

 

At least it kept him in that day. Sam laughed just a little bit more and spending time with his brother seemed to be helping Dean a little bit as well. Castiel escaped the room for a little while, only his phone and wallet in his pockets and the notebook in his hands. His mother had send a quick text the previous day to assure him that they were fine and starting to get a start on the case. It wasn’t weird that his mother hadn’t gotten into contact with him that day, but he wanted to keep his cellphone on him just in case. If she should call that he could answer her.

Motel rooms always made him feel like he was being held prisoner. Usually, he’d be out and wandering, trying to find some place to walk or where he could relax a little bit, but now he’d wanted to keep Sam company, so he hadn’t. He could hardly allow Sam to be alone. Something could come in and hurt the kid while he was supposed to be watching. If that happened, he wouldn't only have Dean's wrath and Sam's anger, but also John's rage and his mom's disapproval. 

The playground was abandoned at nine pm, thankfully. It wasn’t that he would have minded the kids all that much, but they always stole the swings and made the place too loud. He settled himself in the swing, knees pulled up and book on his legs, pen hoovering above the page.

_She’s gone again._

Castiel sighed. He should use it better than this, but Sam had told him that it didn’t matter. That in a few years, he’d want to read it through regardless of what he wrote right now.

 

_You’d think that after eighteen years, you would be used to it. My mother always protected me from the lifestyle and she still partially does._

_Up until this date, I still haven’t really been on a hunt. The thought that her baby boy could possibly be pulled into the same almost war that she grew up in terrifies her more than I think._

_But it’s okay._

_Sometimes, I just miss her I think. Or worry. I don’t know which one of the two gets the upper hand on moments like these._

_And it isn’t like people around me right now aren’t giving me reasons to worry about them. Mom dropped me off with the Winchester brothers. Sam is fourteen and the other guy is around my age. I can’t remember if he already turned eighteen or not._

_Sam is a great kid. Actually told me to go ahead and write whatever I want with it, that it really doesn’t matter what I do in here._

_Dean is weird. A mystery, I don’t know what his problem is. He’s out all night and comes back around one or two.  Sometimes I wonder what he does all night. You’re not going to tell me that those five hundred bucks that he put in the stash last night were all from hustling pool. I’ve done that before when money ran out._

_Good, I may be a piss poor excuse, but I suspect that even a good hustler can’t get that much money. And last night, he’d looked as if he had been shaking, his face was so pale that I kind of regret not saying anything about it._

_I mean, come on._

_There is enough that I worry about already. A random kid that I haven’t even seen for an entire day can’t be that._

**DEAN W. (10:22 pm)**

_Sam’s asking when you’re planning on coming back._

 

**DEAN W. (10:25 pm)**

D _o I tell him to get his ass to bed or what?_

 

**CASTIEL (10:25 pm)**

_Tell him to go to bed._

 

 _Some nights it feels like everything is raining down on me at the same time and others it feels like everything is fine and I’m good._ _I got lucky, having the mother that I do. As bad as this feels being written, I am glad that I didn’t get the same upbringing as the Winchesters._

 _Mom told me how Mary died. She was actually friends with the Winchesters before and saw how John unraveled afterwards. She said that Dean and I spend a lot of time in the same cribs when my father – god bless his soul - and John went out on hunts and Dean stayed behind._ _Part of me wonders why she didn’t do something while she could. Perhaps these two boys would have gotten the chance of growing up in a safe environment if she had._

_I guess I understand. Mom had her own problems at the time. I can’t blame her for not saving them, it’s just something that I wonder about._

_Sorry, I’m a little bit sensitive tonight. Dad died two years ago today an it’s been getting on my nerves. Especially with my mom being away right now and me not knowing if she is safe or not._

_I would have expected her to at least call and talk to me for a little while. I guess it would have settled my mind a little bit better._ _It’s getting cold outside and I should probably get back but I don’t know, I don’t want to go back to the motel room before mom at least texts._

_I should text her, but I just don’t feel like it. I don’t know._

_I’m going to anyway._

 

**CASTIEL (11:50 pm)**

_Stay safe mom._

 

**MOM (12:00 am)**

_You too Cas._

 

**MOM (12:00 am)**

_Pray, for your father?_

 

**CASTIEL (01:05 am)**

_I will._

 

_Guess that was an answer. Or not you know. I don’t know. I've said those three words so often in so few words that it's embarrassing._

_But I will pray for him, before bed. She knows that I always do._

_Praying is part of me that still settles well with the rest of the world. I know that there is nobody out there and that by praying I am just shouting out in the empty void, but that it does not mean that it doesn’t bring me a certain sense of, peace I guess._

_It’s a reassurance that I won’t be judged for thoughts or things that I think. I cannot remember how often I have yelled to the gods how much I wished that I wouldn’t be into guys the way that I am or that it wouldn’t feel as each time I look at a guy the wrong way, people will know and that they will judge me over something that I cannot control._ _I’ve had guys make fun of me before. I am no hunter, but a hunter’s kid. I fall under the same category of people that are not supposed to have a little bit more of a feminine side, as they seem being queer is._

_The word settles with me wrong. It doesn’t completely suit be, but straight doesn’t either. Neither does gay. There are other words being thrown around, but I don’t think that they’ll fit either. Labels suck and yeah, a label is nothing to be proud about but does that mean that I cannot want one?_

_That I cannot want to have a word for what feels is wrong with me?_

_Being queer is  a sin. God, it feels like that. It feels like the world would rather tear me apart than do anything else and I understand. Understand because you know, it feels like a sin, so it has to be one too. It has to be wrong for me to feel like I do sometimes._

_I don’t tend to go to bars because of it. Afraid that I will find a guy that looks the part and make my heart beat faster._ _Kind of like Dean._

 _You should have seen him you know. He’s bloody gorgeous. Not the ‘okay he’s kinda cute’ type but the actual, ‘somebody fan me I can’t do this’ kind._ _Why? Why must I feel like this? It's nothing more than aesthetic attraction, nothing more than thinking jesus christ you are gorgeous._

_Some days feel like smoke in my lungs that tries to drown me._

_Anyway. Enough crappy stuff. I’m not going to fill this thing up with my complaining about stuff that I shouldn’t complain about. It’s childish. I can do better than that._

_Anyway. Mom is apparently fine, so I’m glad._

_One am is no time to be outside writing. Especially not when the cold is starting to creep into your bones and your hands shake more than anything._

_Or when you’re using your phone as a light source because you don’t have anything else at the moment._

 

**DEAN W. (01;25 am)**

_Dude. It’s freezing out. Come back to the motel before your fingers freeze off._

 

**CASTIEL (01;45 am)**

_On my way._

 

_But it numbs everything a little bit. I didn’t even know that I needed this to distract me until I was writing._

_It feels like I can finally open up and it is almost heaven. Almost because it doesn’t really make the feeling last for longer than twenty minutes. I know that by the time that I’ll be in bed, I’ll feel like shit again._

_Anyway, I should go before Dean comes to get me himself. Not that he’d find me but still._

 

Castiel closed the door to the motel room gently, trying not to disturb Sam. He didn’t mean to wake the others up. He was pretty sure that Dean had fallen asleep by now, as he should have. He had been right, it was getting quite late. Perhaps a little bit too late to be up, they had a point.

Castiel had lighted a cigarette on the way back, watching how the tip of it flashed against the background. Part of him hated himself for starting the habit a few months ago, but now it offered him comfort and comfort he needed. Sure, he could go do what John Winchester did and a lot of the others did as well, he could go ahead and drink booze, but he wasn’t that far gone just yet. Not that far.

“Where the hell where you?” Dean hissed from his bed as he closed the door and locket it, quickly checking that the salt lines they’d laid down were still there and unbroken.

“Thinking, writing. Playground.” If he didn’t ask, Dean shouldn’t either. “Needed some time to think.”

“Yeah, okay.” There was a frown on Dean’s face as Castiel slipped into the bathroom to get changed. All he had to do was go ahead and brush his teeth, get the taste of the coffee off his tongue. “You okay?”

“I will be.” He would be, he just needed a little bit of rest and a new day to arrive. “Go to sleep.”

“You waited up for me,” Dean shrugged. “I’d be an ass if I didn’t wake up for you that one time you go out. Good night, Cas.”

“Good night Dean.”

 

Castiel didn’t actually sleep that night. First, he’d just lain there and tried to sum up the willpower to pray. He just didn’t know what to say, what to pray for. His mother knew that his faith had wavered quite a bit in his lifetime. He had grown up in a family that wasn’t quite religious but still handled about the same morals; Sundays were spend at church once a year, only because his grandmother always did the same thing with his mother.

He was the only one in their tiny family to really catch a longing or a love for the concept of somebody out there to hear your prayers. He liked knowing that there would be something more, that it all was worth it in the end. He was the one that looked forward to Church.

But on some days, when his mother was hurt or he was just in a bad place, he sometimes started doubting. Doubting if this was the right path and if he really believed in that, if he really thought that some god up there decided all those things. Castiel sighed. It wasn’t like he should care that much about it. Sure, religion was a part of his life, but it wasn’t like he was that religious. It had never been a big part of his life.

 

Sam woke up around six am, before Cas had even gotten a chance to fall back asleep. He’d been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for too long, way too long. Eventually, he’d gotten up to sit down at the kitchen table with an empty cup of coffee in front of him. His notebook was in front of him again, to reread the bullshit that he had written the day before. It was all pathetic, so incredibly pathetic. It sounded like what a child would write or a thirteen year old. SOmebody who didn't know how to cope with anything.

“How late did you get back?” Sam asked him sleepily from where he was still buried under the blankets, one eye peeping out. “I didn’t hear you come back.”

“Around two,” he muttered, careful not to wake Dean up. He was still snoring away. “It was pretty late. I'm sorry.” Castiel knew that he didn't need to apologize, not really, but he wanted to.

“You’re up already?” He frowned. “Dean doesn’t get out of bed before eight even if he fell asleep around nine. And then you say that Dean doesn’t sleep enough.”

“I didn’t. Sleep that is.” He had wanted too, sure, but he’d started praying and there he had been hours later still crying with tears stinging in his eyes. He’d asked for guidance at first, a path through all that was going on, but soon he was asking for strength for his mother. He asked if his mother could come back in one piece. Soon enough, his prayer had gotten longer and longer, like the notebook entry of the previous night. Soon enough, he’d been crying like a five year old. He’d swallowed his pride, took a quick shower with the door locked and the water to hide the tears that ran down his cheeks like sins.

Sam looked at him with pity in his eyes. He eyed the empty cup that Cas still cradled in his hands. The heat had gone away a long time ago, he just hadn’t found the energy to get up and fill it up again.

“You don’t look so good. You’re okay, right?” Sam asked as he filled a bowl with cornflakes. In the empty room, the sound almost seemed too loud. He'd picked up Castiel's empty cup on the way and filled it for him, dumping in two packs of sugar without asking before handing it back, smiling a little.

“Yeah, I am. Or will be. I don’t know.  Yesterday was just an anniversary of something that I don’t like remembering.” The coffee burned his tongue. “I’m sorry if I worried you by staying out that late by the way. Dean told me you were worried.”

“If it’s worth anything, Dean was worried too.” Cas smiled.

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass your brother.” The slight smile that stretched across his face was telltale. _Siblings_. “But yeah, I figured when I walked in and he was still up. Dean shouldn’t have.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” There was an evil grin on his lips. “It’s not like Dean would admit it out loud. But no seriously. I’m sorry about you having a rough day.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Don’t worry. Enjoy your lucky charms."

 

The rest of the week passed by in a quiet haze. Cas kept his stuff clean and helped Sam with some of his homework while Dean went out, got their money. Dean got caught up in a monster hunt one of the days. It was nothing but a ‘we met at the wrong moment’ thing, but he still came home bleeding and bruised. Cas _tried_ not to freak out as Dean walked in with blood running down his face and broken knuckles at two am.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in it in the first place,” he hissed as he pulled Dean in the bathroom with him. “What did you do?”

“Saved a girl from being kidnapped by a werewolf,” he bit back. “He’s off worse.” His face pulled as Cas poured peroxide over the wounds and watched it bubble. “Being gentle isn’t your strongest point is it?”

“Do you want your wounds cleaned out or me being gentle and you getting infected wounds, because only one of them goes,” he snapped back, Dean’s hand still in his where he held it in the sink. “What if Sam had seen you?”

“He’s seen worse.”

“Yes. He has. But not at two am and hold that rag back to your head before you get even more blood on everyone.” He didn’t mean to snap like Dean, like he was doing now, but he couldn’t help it.  “You’re lucky that probably doesn’t need stitches.”

“Yes mom, thanks for that observation.”

“You _can_ just do your own wounds.” He didn’t mean to snap at him like that, but he was tired and Dean arriving like that had scared the shit out of him. His mother had raised him to be caring and to be a little mother when it came to people he started to care about. “Be my guest. I don't need to stay awake for this.” He didn't let go of the tape though.

“Sorry.”

 

A little over an hour later, Castiel's shirt was covered in Dean’s blood, but at least the bleeding had stopped. It seemed to take forever before he could get a grasp on the head wound.

“This should be it,” Cas sighed as he stuck down the last bit of tape. What he thought was one laceration had appeared to be two, one higher up his face, closer to the hairline. It was small enough that it had stopped bleeding soon, but still needed a dressing just in case. “I’ll need to change the bandage later, but you get some sleep first and take a pill, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep.” Or perhaps, with how drowsy Dean already looked he would be able to sleep. Regardless, it would make the morning easier on him. He’d probably have a killer headache by the time that he got up and even more bruises that weren’t showing just yet.

“Hmm.”

“Dean. Come on.” He’d set Dean down on a chair in the kitchen when the bathroom had gotten too bloody and his legs had started to give way. “You need to cooperate.” Except he wouldn’t. Dean was a big guy, both taller and more muscled than him, but the bed wasn’t that far. Carrying him over his shoulder would have made this a lot easier, but you couldn’t really do that to an injured guy with busted ribs.

“You’re going to be the dead of me,” he hissed as he lifted Dean in his arms, Dean settling against him as if he had found his pillow. “Yes, absolutely. My death in the form of a 170 pound guy.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. Castiel blamed it on the lack of sleep. "You're lucky you're out or I would have you cleaning the goddamn bathroom yourself." It was almost a wonder that he hadn’t fully woken up again by the time Cas put him in bed and had taken off his shoes and jeans. He would feel terrible if he woke up still wearing them, and if he could do at least that, it was a start.

 

Around seven am, he gathered Dean’s bloody clothes and their laundry, left a note on the table for Sam – he doubted Dean would be up before noon with how little he’d slept and the pills he’d taken - and went to the laundromat to get the clothes clean. He could go later, but people would look at him too closely if he did and he didn’t want people asking him where the blood had come from. People always had their conclusions and him being a serial killer was not something that he wanted people to think.

And regardless, he needed to think a bit, be alone for a little. His hands still stung from the bleach that he'd had to use to get some of the blood off the tiles. The bathroom was airing so that Sam wouldn't be too suspicious when he woke up and smelled bleach.

 

Dean was up when he came back with the clean laundry, sitting up even. He still looked like shit, but it was a start at least. The Impala was parked out front; the voices of their parents and Dean’s defending himself carried further than the door, which was still opened to a crack. Castiel didn’t say anything until he closed the door and saw three pairs of eyes turned to him. His mother’s look was curious, _asking_ almost while John and Dean had this oddly level look in their eyes. Belatedly, he wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have let Dean go in the first place.

“We should get going,” his mother sighed, getting back up. “Cas, pack your stuff.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me change his dressing first though?” His mother smiled lightly before nodding.

“Of course. John, come help get my stuff out of your truck?”

“Yeah.”

 

He packed his bags within minutes, not exactly having anything to really pack up. His stuff had remained in his duffel mostly, except for his journal that had been on the kitchen table and a few things in the bathroom. Dean lingered in the door opening until Cas waved him forward, forced him to go ahead and sit down on the chair. He  _tried_ to be careful as he loosened the tape and not pull out the hair there.

“You can pull, I’ve looked worse. Once, they actually had to shave a bit to get the stitches done,” Dean said, “I don’t really care if you rip out a little bit of hair there.”

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said, shrugging. His fingers peeled away the last of the gauze, showing the angry red cut. It had mostly closed up, but opened up somewhere during the night judging from the blood that clung to the gauze. “This might sting a bit.”

“I’m not a toddler.”

“I don’t want you to flinch and get the salve all over your face. I know your reflexes and a black eye is _not_  on my list of things I want to have happen.” He cleaned the wound again, putting a new dressing on them before taking Dean’s hand in his and shifting closer. The cuts on his knuckles had mostly bruised over, swollen quite badly in some places. He cleaned those too, eyes only on the blood still clinging to his fingers. “You should put some ice on those. I think that they might be sprained. Don’t think they’re broken, because you can move your fingers without too much pain. I should have driven you to the hospital.”

“Hunters get worse Cas.” They were in too close quarters, Cas crouched in front of Dean where he sat in the chair, knees bumping. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m still going to text you to remind you to clean them.” He looked up at Dean, capturing his eyes with his. “And I _will_ need to hear how they’re healing. Don't think I can't call Sam to check.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed, eyes drifting down to Cas’s lips. As if wondering. He reached out a hand, experimentally, letting it rest on Dean’s shoulder. Cas had expected him to flinch away, but he didn’t, instead bringing his head closer, until they were almost breathing

“Cas!” his mother yelled from outside the door, throwing it open. They sprung apart like they were burned, Cas’s cheeks burning. “We should go.” She knew what she had walked in on, told him as much in the car ride back.

They didn’t speak of it ever again.


	4. 2015

 

_“i never claimed to understand you, but know this:_

_if you came back now, i would write_   
_books about the color of your eyes, how it’s never really_   
_the same from any angle_

_i would invent new words to describe how your smiles_   
_pulled me out of the darkness and how i wish i could_   
_taste the smoke on your lips one last time_

_even if i ran out of words, i would still have books_   
_to fill about the way your hair always looked kind_   
_of messy but it was perfect anyway_

_once you’ve loved someone, it never_   
_really goes away and i swear i will love you_   
_in every version of this wretched universe_

_in another life, you must have been my heart,_   
_pumping blood and air through my veins,_   
_because it has been so long and_   
_i still cannot live without you,_   
_cannot stay away_

_i say your name like a prayer and it’s been too long since i last went to confession;”_

_**[i beg for you to forgive me, for i have sinned](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/post/130960734236/i-never-claimed-to-understand-you-but-know)// s.z** _

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

**SAM WIN. (01:45 PM)**

_I need to catch a plane back. I will be there as soon as possible._

 

**SAM WIN. (05:45 PM)**

_I got us on a plane going to Lawrence that lands at five am. Are you and Dean still in the same spot? Which hospital?_

 

 

Castiel huffed as he read the message. His eyelids had been drooping for a t least a few hours now, but he wanted to be there for Dean, stay in the hospital for just a little bit longer on the off chance that he would wake up sooner than the doctors thought that he would. The information that they'd given him was coiling around in his head and it jumbled up as if that was its only purpose.

“You know your brother is a little bit of a jerk.” He shook his head. Castiel shouldn’t be talking to Dean. He was talking to somebody unconscious, somebody that probably didn't even hear him, but it was the last sense of normality he had. He couldn't help from at least trying and hoping to get perhaps a twitch of a hand or a reaction.  _Anything_. "I texted him last morning and a day and a half later he texts back that he’ll be here. Pathetic.”

 

**CASTIEL (05:45 pm)**

_Of course we are. Come drop your stuff off, you have a key. He’s in Lawrence Memorial. Ask for him downstairs, tell them you’re his brother, they’ll probably let you up._

 

**CASTIEL (05:48 pm)**

_Do you need someone to pick you up from the airport?_

 

**SAM WIN. (05:55 pm)**

_Yeah, if you can? Jessica is coming back with me._

 

**CASTIEL (06:02 pm)**

_No problem. You land at five, I’ll be there._

 

There were doctors walking up and down the hallways and there was always some noise there. It made everything feel a little less creepy, made the silence a little less dreadful. Every once in a while, they'd come in and check up on Dean. When the nurses came in, they talked to him a little, explained some stuff in more human terms than the doctors could. Even though he was sure that they'd seen weirder stuff, Castiel would always shut up when they came by. The nurses or doctors had no reason to have to listen to his tirades.

It wasn’t like they were that personal to him. He was just ashamed. Cas was pretty much talking to no one with how Dean had lost consciousness. He was talking to someone who had absolutely no chance of talking back. It was weird. He was weird. But it was therapeutic, offered him even the slightest bit of comfort when he’d rather be everywhere but next to Dean. Dean, who wasn’t moving in the immediate future.

He hated it, seeing him like this, with a tube to supply his air and a machine to keep all of his bodily functions stable. Dean was doing good on his own so far. The doctors had faith in the fact that he wouldn’t be suffering the effects of the coma for long, that he’d soon regain consciousness, as long as he _believed_. The word felt too heavy. He couldn't believe. Not in this.

 

He found himself in the chapel an hour later. He was tired and hungry, but he didn’t feel like going down for coffee or food. His stomach was still in nods, even if the coffee that Charlie had brought him had settled it. She and her girlfriend had left a while ago after checking up on Dean, but had promised they'd help out whenever they could. She would call the rest of Dean's friends to let them know what was going on. She'd give them his number just in case they'd need it. Castiel was grateful for them both, but he needed to be alone for a little bit. 

Castiel couldn’t be in the room anymore; each time he looked at Dean it felt like they stabbed a knife in his heart. On top of that, he kept running the same thing in his head. He should have corrected the doctor when he assumed that he was Dean’s boyfriend. He wasn’t. All he was, was someone that helped keep the house clean and pay the bills, stitch him up if he had a rough night hunting. He was nothing but an empty entity in Dean's life and he had no right to claim that title. He mainly kept it running in his head because the term felt right as well. He felt relieved having it, felt warmth spread through him. 

Castiel had wandered into the chapel without really thinking about it. His feet brought him there when he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking.  Originally, his plan had been to wander down to the ground floor, where there was a little garden. It was good to clear his head he guessed and that was what he needed. Perhaps a bit more than he'd like to agree to. But his feet had brought him here instead. The cushion felt cold, as if even though there had to be a lot of desperation on the ward and even though there must be a lot of people that needed the prayer, there weren't a lot of people that came around to pray. It felt weird, being in a place of God again. He’d abandoned his faith for so long that it felt foreign, almost made him guilty. His faith had always wavered, had always gone up and down.

“It might help,” a woman whispered from the back row. It startled Castiel. He had thought that the little chapel was empty, his eyes had passed straight over the woman. “Even if you’re not that religious or not religious at all.”

“I know.” He sat down close enough to whisper back, but far enough to keep each other’s privacy. “I just haven’t prayed in such a long time.”

“He’s forgiving.” The woman smiled at him. “You don’t have to pray for Him to support you or recognize you, He knows without you telling him.” She reached out to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Trust me." She had a small smile on his lips, as if she knew.

“It just feels weird.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I even came here.”

“Though times can bring you back. At least, I assume you’re not in the hospital because you want to, especially not on this floor.” She shook her head. “It usually doesn’t completely disappear, your Faith. Maybe that’s why.”

“Yeah, not exactly.”

“Even if you don’t know what to ask for or what to pray for, mention them. Whoever it is and if they mean a lot to you. If you’re sticking with them, they must mean something to you. He’ll know.”

“Yeah, he does.” If Dean didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck around him through all that time. Or well, stuck around. It was more like they had been carriers of bad things. Almost like Dean always brought some darkness with him in the passenger seat of his baby, his Impala. “We’ve known each other for so long, I don’t know what I’d do without him.” He hadn’t meant to say it quite like that, but it was true in essence. He’d been there for him so often in the past couple of weeks that Cas didn’t know quite what he’d do without him anymore.

“You should tell him that, when he wakes up.” She shook her head, a tiny smile on her lips before standing up. “I should go, Ruby should be back from tests and I want to go say something to her before I leave.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I hope you’ll find an answer.” And he did too.

 

Castiel found himself in the car park, staring forlornly at his car. Or well, not exactly  _his_  car. He’d taken the Impala to the hospital without thinking about it. He had his own car tucked away in the garage, but the Impala had been closest for him. It was the one that he could get away with faster. The nurses had eventually managed to coax him away from Dean’s room. It was late, visiting hours were over – even though he wondered if they really applied to Dean at the moment – and he needed to get some food into him. At least, according to them.

 _'We'll take good care of him sweetheart. Now you go take care of yourself okay? Let him come back to a healthy boyfriend instead of none'._  Castiel hadn’t allowed himself to be hungry or well, allowed himself to feel the hunger. It was there in the back of his mind. He could eat when he got back home. Except for the fact that he probably had to eat something if he wanted to get home in one piece without ending up in a car accident himself. He was restless, unsure of _what_ to do.

 

He ended up munching on a muffin he got in the cafeteria before driving off, careful to keep the crumbs out of the car. Dean would kill him if he went back and his baby was all smeared with crumbles of something as mundane as a cranberry muffin. The drive over  He knew that even if he tried to sleep he wouldn’t be able to stop the gears in his head from turning and turning.

Eventually, he cleaned out his room once he got home, put new sheets on the bed let some fresh air in. It was cold sure, but it was welcome, pulled him out of his numbness even if it was just barely.

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

 

Castiel was back on the road to pick up Sam from the airport too soon. The morning had been spend debating whether or not to take the Impala and eventually settling on his own car. Dean would never forgive him if he let anything happen to his beloved impala. Driving it the previous day had been a mistake, had even felt like a mistake as he was doing it.

He had coffees on the passenger seat and three breakfast sandwiches. They were still warm – he’d made sure to stop somewhere closer to the airport – and _tempting_. He wanted to wait for Sam and Jessica though, so he didn’t dig in. Truth was, it was all _‘I’m sorry I snapped at you over text it wasn’t my place to do_ ’ stuff. Cas felt guilty over his behavior of the previous day. The little bit of sleep that he had gotten while waiting for his phone to ring, to tell him that Dean had woken up or that he had deteriorated quite a lot over the night had helped him give some perspective.

They arrived at the car around half past five; Sam had bags under his eyes and was looking ever so worried. He really didn’t look good and well, it served him well waiting so long to even call in or _ask_ about his brother.

“Hello Jess, Sam,” he said, stepping out to help them put their bags in the trunk. There was still some hunter stuff there, just in case. A gun, salt, iron. Before, it was all decked out in the back, like an arsenal. Now, it was buried in a single bag in the back, a reminder of the time. Their stuff fit in the back better than he’d guessed. They only brought their basics back to Lawrence with them. Jessica smiled at him from the backseat of the car, almost shyly. She hadn’t really said that much yet, as is if she was waiting for something. Castiel passed them their food without saying anything and started the car.

“How is he?”

“I don’t know. Good I guess. The doctors told me that his vitals are probably as stable as they could hope for, considering the accident and how he arrived I guess.” He shook his head, eyes back to the road. “They only called me at seven, but he was brought in at three am. He went through surgery before I even heard about it.”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Staying with him yesterday, texting me. I probably wouldn’t have called the hospital back.” Castiel didn’t want to ask whether that was because he didn’t call weird numbers back or if it was because he was too scared.

“Yeah. I figured. Sorry if I was a bit aggressive.” It was awkward, sitting in the car with Sam. He only build a friendship with Dean, hadn’t spoken to Sam in ages. Not since he’d left for Stanford a few years ago. “It was out of line.”

“No it’s cool. Look Cas, I get that you are angry with me for how I treated Dean and how this all panned out.” _Understatement._ “I know that you blame me for leaving after dad died.” Jessica was shifting awkwardly in the backseat, eyes flicking back and forth between Sam and Cas as if she was waiting for either of them to snap.

“You know that he still can’t stand to speak about your father? It’s been three years and he still won’t speak about him.” So what if he blamed Sam for leaving when things got rough. He had the right to be bitter about it. “Look, you went to Stanford and found Jessica. You found your ways to cope. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did Sam, I'm glad you're doing well and I'm glad that you went out to get your degree. You deserved that chance. Until I found Dean, he had no one left. I know that I shouldn’t care Sam, but he was a mess.” ‘And so am I’ he thought bitterly. “He was finally doing better now and this happened. Yes I am bitter but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t out of line.”

 

They dropped their stuff off at the house and drove to the hospital, making Cas stay back and get a shower, eat something. Jessica had actually forced him while Sam carried their bags to his room – he’d given up his room so they could sleep there – telling him that Dean wouldn’t be alone.

“We’ll be there,” she pressed, “don’t worry about it. You get cleaned up, sleep a little.” Her eyebrows pulled together in an expression that he didn’t really get. “If anything happens, I’ll call okay?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She shook her head. “You know, he does feel guilty, about Dean, about what happened. He just won’t admit it.”

“Yeah.” A bitter part of him added _he better be_ to that thought. “He should just show it to his brother. He didn’t see Dean when I found him at that bar Jessica. We patched each other up.” Patched each other up like they had done time after time before, when his mother passed, when Dean got into that fight in 2008. Patched each other up and made each other vulnerable in a way. Castiel still didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

“If I had the time now, I would tell you how I found him,” she said, a sad look in her eyes. “The way he was after his father’s passing. When we get back, we should have a chat, I think. If you’re still up or are up for it.” Castiel just nodded, before telling her to go.

 

The shower and cigarette did him good. He felt clean again, his head clearer now that he’d had a few cups of coffee and some toast. Part of him kept waiting for his phone to ring and Jessica to call him because Dean wasn’t doing well. He kept waiting and waiting for it, but it didn’t come.

Castiel actually slept as well, curled up on the couch now that Sam and Jess had taken his room. He couldn’t sleep in Dean’s room. It was too much like him, too familiar. Cas, he just couldn’t. So the couch it was. It may not be comfortable but he’d slept in worse places.

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

The hospital felt just that little bit more familiar as he walked up to Dean’s room. Jessica and Sam were downstairs, needing a break from being with him and he understood. Castiel had felt quite the same the previous day, when he’d stopped at the chapel. It didn’t even seem like Dean had moved. Castiel didn’t know what he had expected. He sat down next to Dean, taking the hand that wasn’t connected to all the wires and IV. They still felt exactly the same in his. They were rough and calloused from years of handling guns and fighting. He had so many scars and this experience would only lead to more horrible scars.

“You’ll pull through, you know.” He whispered, not sure what he was afraid of or who couldn’t overhear. “I swear, if you don’t pull through I’m not showing up to the funeral. You won’t see me there I don’t care how long your ghost would beg. The house is weird without you there. You make it a little bit more alive, the rooms lived in. I realized that last night, when I tried to sleep and it was just _empty._ ” He took a shaky breath. “No personality. The house is literally all you.

“So we’ll make a deal. I’ll read those godawful books that you’ve been begging me to read – I actually brought you one, and you come back to me, okay?” He sighed, taking the book from his bag. Castiel had gotten used to always hauling around his stuff growing up as a hunter. Even now that he didn’t really think of himself as one of them, he still carried a backpack around with some stuff in it. A traveler’s notebook – after he had completed his mother’s journal, he realized that he needed something a little bit more versatile that he could switch out the notebooks for – and a pen, some water, his wallet with ID and drivers licence, some change, tissues and now, the book. “I know you’ve already read it, but perhaps you’ll enjoy it more the second time around. Books tend to do that to people.”

He still had Dean’s hand in his as he spoke.

 

Castiel didn’t look up from the page that he was reading from until he heard a light cough behind him. He’d been so into the book that he hadn’t realized that Jessica had stepped in the room, all sweet smiles and innocence.

“I figured you didn’t really want Sam to hear,” she said, knowing her boyfriend well enough to know that Sam would give him shit for that when Dean woke up again. And yeah, she was right. In the months that he’d known Sam, he had proven that he could be an annoying younger brother. “It’s sweet.”

“I keep thinking that something should pull him out of it,” he shrugged. “He asked me to read these a while ago. I never got around to actually reading them.” He had to admit that the chapter or so that he'd read so far was actually  _good_. He'd been reluctant to read them for some reason and now he couldn't say why.

“He’ll be glad you did.” She fell silent for a little bit, taking in the way that he was holding Dean’s hand in his. He tried not to sigh as he gently placed Dean’s hand back on the bed.

“I hope so. Have you both talked to the doctor yet?”

“Sam is doing that right now,” she confided. “I don’t really want to know. Sam will tell me if there is something important that I should know.” Castiel understood, he didn't want to know either, but he had no choice.

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

 

Castiel found himself in the chapel again and this time he prayed. Prayed for help for Dean, for guidance. It felt almost like coming home, as if he had missed it without really knowing it himself. He prayed that his mother was safe and reunited with his father, that Jessica and Sam could grow old together. Just in what he'd seen of them in short periods of time showed just how much emotions they put in handling each other. Castiel actually envied it, knowing that he could never have a relationship quite like the one that the two of them had build.

It was in going back to Dean’s room, where Sam and Jess still were and the doctor was going to give them extra information that he saw the redhead of the prior day again. She had just stepped out of one of the offices, nodding along to what the doctor was saying. He didn’t know what they were talking about but then again, it really wasn’t any of his business.

“Hey there,” she said when she noticed him. “We just got some good news.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said and he meant it. “Is Ruby doing better?”

“She’s around again. She had blinked a few times before but we all know that doesn’t really need to mean anything. When I came here this morning, she was up and talking. Can’t walk anymore, but that was to be expected. I don’t know if I told you, accident that hit her spinal cord.” She looked relieved. The previous day, she had looked a lot more worn, a lot more down. It was good to see her a little bit more relaxed.

“No, you didn’t. It must be a relief.”

“Yes. It is. How is your friend doing?”

“I haven’t spoken to the doctor yet, but his brother is finally here. Dean on the other hand. I don’t know. We’ve been reading.” The girl smiled at him, shook her head.

“I did the same with Ruby. First thing she told me was that they should have saved the dog." She laughed out loud. "I couldn't agree more - What’s your name by the way? It’s kind of awkward to keep referring to you as the Chapel Guy to myself.”

“Castiel," he supplied, "yours?"

“Well Castiel, I’m Anna,” she said with a smile on her lips. He couldn’t help but smile at that. He too had to admit that calling Anna that red head from the hospital had gotten old quite fast. “I should probably go now, Ruby is waiting for me, but I’ll see you around, and I’ll keep Dean in my prayers, if it should help.”

“I’ll keep Ruby in mine as well,” he nodded, “thank you, for talking to me yesterday, I think I needed it more than I care to admit.”

“Of course. See you around.”

 

It was with an odd sense of peace that he went back to Dean’s room. The doctor, Sam and Jessica were already waiting for him. He nodded to the doctor as he took his previous spot next to the bed. Castiel was more than thankful that they had waited for him to come back to give the update. While part of him didn't want to know what was going on, part of him needed to.

“Okay. His situation is stable at the moment, as I told you before mister Novak. Nothing has changed a lot since yesterday. He’s not responding to external stimuli as we would have expected – there is reaction but faint. Now, he went through major surgery, it is to be expected that he’ll need a few days to recover. With his brother having arrived however, there is one thing that I should ask or mention. Considering that Dean can’t speak for himself when it comes to decisions. Mr. Novak, with Mr. Winchester here he is legally the one has the choices.” He nodded at both of them.

“Of course, I understand.”

“Now, I understand that you wouldn’t want to give all choice over your boyfriend.” Cas could almost _feel_ the eyes snap back up at him, “but I’m afraid there is nothing we can really do about that.”

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Castiel pressed, feeling his cheeks burn. He should really have corrected the doctor when he had assumed it when he arrived.  “I take it that we can work something out, should we have different opinions on something. I trust Sam.” His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall, _avoiding_ Sam and Jessica as much as he could. “It’s no problem doctor.”

“I prefer to mention this soon, because we sometimes have some ugly situations when things do come up later.” He looked at both of them. “Look, I think that what we are seeing here with Dean at this moment is about as good as we could hope for. His breathing is even, _with_ the tube at the moment, but all of his other vitals are stable. If he continues going on this trajectory, I think we can attempt to remove the tube and switch to what I think you would refer to as 'regular oxygen' – through a nasal cannula or C-Pap in a day or two.”

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

They didn’t say anything about it and it almost felt like a blessing. It felt like a blessing even though it was also a knife cutting up the air between them until there was none left. The questions would come if he didn't address it soon. Castiel knew that he would have to explain that he only said it so that he wouldn’t be separated from Dean and he would be allowed in, but that could wait. He left Sam and Jess alone for a little bit longer to get some food in the cafeteria. It wasn’t that he was hungry, not really. He just needed to be away from there for a little bit longer. Ever since his mother and things that happened afterwards, he’d gotten a little bit iffy about hospitals.

It hadn't really affected him the previous day, when he was all nerves and worries but today, it was back. That feeling of dread at the hospital walls and the smell; the beeping of the machines. He'd been here before, he'd been there with his mother. Or well, sort of been there with his mother. She had arrived at the ICU and passed away an hour later. She hadn't made it, no matter how much he wanted her to and now, he was afraid that Dean would be the same. That even though he needed and wanted Dean to pull through, he wouldn't.

It had been years since he saw his mother on that hospital bed, but the fear was still there. He still didn’t feel comfortable visiting hospitals for friends. The previous day, it hadn’t felt so bad, it had been like this. Now the shock and the numbness had passed, he felt the uneasy feeling settle in his bones and the nausea nibbling at his stomach.

Castiel hated being so weak, hated that he felt it.

 

Castiel went to say goodnight to Dean after Jess and Sam had already left. It wasn’t that he minded that Jess and Sam were there in the room, not at all in fact, but it just felt a little but more awkward to say goodbye to Dean.

“Hang in there, okay?” he whispered. “Just a little bit longer, just long enough until you are healed. How about that?” Castiel sighed. “Look, I’m not going to ask you for anything, but to do what feels good. What you want to do.” He took Dean’s hand in his again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to tell you to stay if you can’t. I honestly. Look, I don’t care. Do what you need to do. But if you go.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “If you go, at least let us say goodbye.”

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

Jessica pulled him aside after dinner. Sam had already gone upstairs to take a shower and get cleaned up. It had been a very long day for the both of them, Cas knew that. He had said that he felt like the hospital scent clung to his body and his clothing. Castiel knew the feeling, but knew that the attempt was feeble; he could wash and scrub for hours and it wouldn’t get out.

“Cas?” Jessica was sitting on the couch, a blanket pulled over the legs. On the television, there was something playing but the sound was muted. “How about we have that talk?” Even though he really didn’t want to talk to her, he just nodded and sat down on the couch next to her.

“Sure.”

“Are Dean and you dating?” He had expected the question. After what the doctor had said in the hospital, he had thought that Sam would ask it in the car. Maybe they’d talked about it while he was saying goodbye to Dean, or Sam knew that it was sensitive.

“No, we’re not,” he sighed, “it was just, the doctor assumed it when he saw our texts and I was scared that if he figured out that I am just a friend, that he wouldn’t allow me in. I’m lucky enough to get in as his ‘boyfriend’. Usually, only spouses are really allowed in or family.”

“The doctor didn't see the texts," Jessica supplied. She bit her lip, as if she shouldn't say it. "A social worker explained it to Sam when you were in talking to Dean after the doctor gave us the update. A year or so ago, Dean went in and changed his emergency contact information. It used to be his dad and Sam, now it's Sam and you. You were listed as a boyfriend - I think the person behind the registrar was iffy about non relatives. Judging from how you were acting, I already thought it wasn't the case." She fell silent for a little bit. "But there is more, isn’t there?” She smiled at him. “I’ve seen you say goodbye to him earlier. Is there more between the two of you?”

“No – nothing. Nothing really.”

“You want there to be.” He had to think about it. Did he? Sure, he had moments that he could envision it, that he could see it happen. Slow mornings spend curled up in bed together, mouthing at each other’s skin and nuzzling closer. Weekdays on which Dean had to nudge him out of bed to get to work – once he actually found a job again after being fired from his previous position – or he had to kick Dean out to go to the office, pulling him in by his tie to delve in for one last kiss before he left.

“Maybe. Right now, all I want is for Dean to get better and wake up.” _Or to not wake up, but at least let them move on_. “I don’t think I’m in a position to actually ask for things at the moment, or wants things from Dean other than recovery.” He shook his head. “Regardless of, Dean is repulsed enough by my sex life to actually put a foot near me. I’m sorry – that was too much information. You wanted to tell me about Sam?” Quite frankly, he’d had enough of talking about his love life, which was pretty inexistent.

“Yeah, I do,” she said, sighing. “Look Castiel, you’ve told us about how bad Dean was when you found him, I don’t think that you have known him when their father had passed away. He was lost, and I’m serious, he was _lost_. Working and working. Drinking too. I don’t know just how much he actually drank because he liked it an how much of it was because of the taste or how it made him feel. Regardless. When I met him, he was a mess.” She sighed before rubbing her face. “Cas, he was a wreck. He wasn’t coping, not in the slightest. Sam was an accident waiting to happen. At first, I wondered when the phone would ring to tell me that something like this had happened. That I’d lost my boyfriend for good.” She seemed to realize what she had said. “I’m sorry, Dean isn’t gone yet, but you know what I mean, I think. I was just waiting for it. Waiting for that call to say that he drove drunk and ended up crashing his car.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I think both brothers were like that. Dean didn’t sleep, not at first. He’d try to sure, but it never worked out. God, I made him look out for me while I should have paid more attention to how he was feeling. It’s selfish of me, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. How did he get over it?”

“I don’t really know,” Jess confided, “I think that just, being around me and having a shoulder to cry on, to confide in helped. That’s at least what I’d like to believe. I don’t know though, I think that it was just college looking up and getting everything a little bit more cleared out.”

“I’m glad that he pulled through.” And he really did mean it. “I know that I may not always have been that open and friendly about it but I don’t know. He left, left Dean behind like that. It doesn’t quite settle well with me.”

“Don’t worry, I get it. Some days, I curse him for running too. He should have stayed there and seen if he could help dean. The two of them could have helped each other out, quite a lot. I think you know them better than I do Castiel – Sam told me how you used to hang out, helped Dean when he almost got turned into a werewolf snack – and that you should have probably seen it coming.”

“Werewolf snack is a little farfetched,” he shrugged. “It was a busted knuckle and a head gash. But yeah I know them, they’re both stubborn like their father.”

“Did you know John?”

“For a little bit.” He didn’t quite know how to summarize John Winchester. “John was, troubled. They went through a few mishaps, they grew up less than ideal. Look, I don’t want to speak badly about the deceased, but John wasn’t an A+ father. He had his problems. But I think he tried. My mother always told me so. That John tried his hardest to give his boys an upbringing that he thought would benefit them and help them become independent men. It worked. They grew up sturdy and independent, but I wished that they had a warm home, sure, but they came out about as good as it is going to get.”

 


	5. 2010

 

_"Start by pulling him out of the fire and_

_hoping that he will forget the smell._

_He was supposed to be an angel but they took him_

_from that light and turned him into something hungry,_

_something that forgets what his hands are for when they_

_aren’t shaking._

_He will lose so much, and you will watch it all happen_

_because you had him first, and you would let the world_

_break its own neck if it means keeping him._

_Start by wiping the blood off of his chin and_

_pretending to understand._

_Repeat to yourself_

_“I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you”_

_until you fall asleep and dream of the place_

_where nothing is red._

_When is a monster not a monster?_

_Oh, when you love it._

_Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep._

**[Caitlyn Siehl](http://alonesomes.tumblr.com/), “Start Here”**

 

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 ~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ ~~_~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _ ~~ __~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _ ~~ ~~__~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking_ ~~ _ _ ~~ _._ ~~__~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~_ ~~_  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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»»-------------¤-------------««

 

 

 _It’s been over a week now._ _Not just days, like before, not just hours or minutes. Until the first three days, I could actually tell you the minutes since. In my head, it kept being added._ _Every few minutes, something would tell me; “it’s already been ten minutes why are you still crying, why are you breaking down over something like this.” And later “it’s been twenty hours, you really don’t care enough”_

_Everything is starting to dim down and I don’t know whether it is because I am starting to get over the fact that my mother is gone or because it is only now settling in and letting me realize that yes, I am alone right now._

_I don’t know. It’s all pretty weird.I saw her body burn as if she was a witch during the witch trials and it felt almost as if I was the one on fire. Smoke filled my lungs and it felt like I too was choking on dry air. Time passed and the smoke cleared up, her body burned and turned into ashes. I can't imagine the fire. God, I hope that she didn't feel a thing, that she's with dad now._

_It's been too long now and I'm still mourning. I am just a huge baby. I am a baby._

 

The pen felt wrong in Castiel’s hands. He didn’t know if it was because he was trying to write down something that he still didn’t quite gasp or if it was just because it was all so raw and wrong. He’d tried to, tried to write down what he felt at first, but it was a wasted effort. Each time he even attempted to, he started crying too easily. He would continue writing, but only because of the fact that it hurt. There were pages like the one before he was working on. Pages just filled with ' _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking'_ that were crossed out.  John must have taken one look at him and realized that he was a little kid, a mere toddler. Castiel had seen it in his eyes, that pity that almost felt offensive. While he hated having to rely on John on what to do, how to stop his mother from coming back instead of going to heaven. Or hell he assumed. He didn’t quite know where hunters went when they passed on.

She deserved to be in heaven, but Cas guessed that he was good with her being anywhere, as long as she was with his father again, as long that at least the two of them were happy and together. He didn’t care how much it mangled their souls or how terrible they became. He just wanted them to be happy and together.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel looked up from where he was sitting and let his eyes roam to Dean. He hadn’t noticed that he had come in, but then again he had been buried in thought. “About your mom.” Castiel hadn’t even known that Dean and Sam had been with John. On the night that he burned her bones, it had been just the two of them.

“Thank you.” The words sounded hollow, even to his ears. “It’s appreciated.” He’d heard that so often the past couple of days. Hunters that his mother worked with or was in contact with that called or send a text with their condolences. It made him want to rip his hair out or hit a wall. The latter of which he had actually done. He knew that he shouldn’t, that hurting himself wouldn’t help for long, but it was better than a lot of the ways that he did.

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

 ~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ ~~_~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _ ~~ __~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _ ~~ __ ~~__~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking_ ~~ _ _ ~~ ___._ _ _ ___ _ ~~__~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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~~_~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _ ~~ __~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~_ _ ~~_  
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~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._ ~~ _~~_You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ ~~ _You are being a baby stop crying, stop breaking._~~ _  
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»»-------------¤-------------««

 

Castiel still had nightmares about the night, still shook when he saw the gun in the back of the car and saw the blood still clinging to the handle. He’d cleaned it off; used bleach until his hands stung and the scent had dug its way into his nose. He still smelled the bleach in the air, even though he knew that it wasn’t there and that he was just imagining things. The scent wasn’t there anymore.

Dean and Sam stayed with him for a few days while their father hunted, like the time they had met. This time, he knew that it wasn’t because John wanted them to. They were old enough to be alone in a motel room, this time Sam as well old enough to fend for himself. He was sure that Dean had asked his father if they could stay or perhaps if they could keep an eye out on him. Dean was that way, felt guilty for things that he shouldn’t feel guilty for. Quite the opposite really.

Thing was, he didn’t appreciate it. Didn’t appreciate the judging looks that Dean threw him that first night, when he came back at two am shivering like a sheet. He knew that Dean had been the one that draped the sheet of his body even though Castiel hadn’t wanted it or needed it. At least the cold had given him something else to feel than the numbness and the white hot anger that seemed to flow through his veins at the sole thought that his mother had taken that hunt alone.

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

It was colder out than he wanted to admit. It bit through his shirt and left goosebumps on his skin, but he didn’t’ really care about it. When Dean and he had met the first time around, their situation had been quite similar. At least, that was how Castiel guessed that he could look at it. He thought that he felt terrible that night, he thought that that had been the worst that he could perhaps be. God, how fate had proven that otherwise and drown him that even if he thought that he couldn’t get any worse he damn well come become a wreck. It was just a little later than he had anticipated life to become hectic and weird.

His cigarette was trembling between his fingers. If he wasn’t careful, he’d drop it. If it wasn’t that he couldn’t light another one, it was just that it would show just how much he was breaking, how much his cracks were showing.

Castiel hadn’t really gotten farther than the playground, sitting down on the swings. It wasn’t like there would be a kid going out and wanting to swing anyway. God, he had needed to be alone, he had wanted the silence and quiet. Dean and Sam were lovely company and sure, they did help a little bit. When they were around even if it was just for a week, he didn’t get so lost inside himself. He didn’t get his emotions all jumbled up.

Except that some days, especially that day, it felt like the stars and the sky was caving in on him, as if he was atlas and the sky rested on his shoulders. It wasn’t even like that much had happened over the past couple of days, it wasn’t like it was all that bad. He was sure that he was just overacting, that this was just him being unable to do undergo even the slightest emotional change in his life and he hated it.

 

Castiel wasn’t quite sure when he’d started sobbing and when his breathing became more and more restricted up until the point that he could barely breathe. He didn’t know how late it had gotten, only knew that he could barely see at this point and he was out of cigarettes. He had thought that he’d grabbed his new pack on the way out, but apparently he hadn’t. Not that he really cared too much, it wasn’t like he needed the cigarettes, it was just a good distraction for him, a distraction that perhaps, he needed.

Cas knew that his phone had been buzzing every ten to twenty minutes or so, but he’d chosen to ignore it. It wasn’t like there was anybody important that could need him. It would only be more people trying to console him and trying to express that they were sorry.

Sure enough, each of them was. He listened to each of them, putting himself through the torture of it for blatant not even caring anymore. He was so angry. Angry that those annoying idiots didn’t care enough about his mother to check in when she was still alive yet _all_ called when they heard that she had passed away. Angry because he knew that they hadn’t been there when his father had passed away or hadn’t checked in either.

If they didn’t then, why should they now? Why should they offer their support _now_? When they could literally do nothing but stare and watch as his life crumbled around him. At least John had attempted to help him, attempted to by leaving the boys with him. It was a feeble attempt, worth pretty much nothing but at least he attempted. It was more than could be said about most of the others.

“Cas?”

“Get away.” He didn’t want to punch Dean and he knew, if Dean would get to close that he would; if he would try to comfort him or touch him, he would snap and hit. “Dean, get the fuck away.” He wavered behind him and when Cas looked up to look at him and his barely lighted figure in the lampshade.

“Did something happen Cas?”

“Listen for yourself.” And listen, Dean did. Listened to the voicemails, a confused look in his eyes as he looked back at him. “They keep coming. They keep calling like they are sorry that I lost my mother but they never even looked twice when she was out there, on her own hunting? They never gave a single shit and now they’re all playing the sorry sons of bitches they are.”

“I’m s.” Dean started to speak, but he didn’t want to hear it, not _again._

“Don’t,” he hissed, getting up from his swing. “Just, don’t.” He barely felt it has he walked over to the wall and punched it. His knuckles were scraped and throbbing, but it barely registered; barely registered as he went back in for a second swing and he hit the wall again. Pain seeped through his arm and he was vaguely aware of somebody pulling him away before going completely numb and letting himself be dragged way, all fight seeping out of him.

Instinctually, he knew now that the adrenaline was ebbing away that he was hurting. He knew that he’d fucked up his knuckles and would probably feel like shit the next day. There was an odd throbbing at his fingers. Castiel hadn’t quite dared move them just yet. The numbness that seemed to spread in his body was both upsetting and like a comfort blanket. It helped protect him, helped keep him safe.

 

Castiel only really resurfaced again when Dean sat him down on the bathroom chair. He’d zoned out during their walk back, not even sure how Dean had gotten him to start walking, or how they’d even gotten back to the motel room. Sam was lingering in the door opening, a worried look on his face. There were questions there and perhaps, he’d already asked them but Dean just wasn’t answering. Maybe Dean had answered, but his answer hadn’t been the one that he was hoping for.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was surprisingly soft and it cut deeper than the previous words had done. “Hey, you with us again buddy?”

“Yeah.” He looked up at Dean, frowning. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if you can still move your fingers, you idiot.” Dean shook his head, before taking Cas’s hand in his again, moving the fingers carefully. “How does it feel?”

“Like you’re forcing it to move,” he said dryly, ignoring the way that Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ve had worse. It doesn’t hurt that bad.” At least it didn’t right now. It could be that it would start hurting later during the day but at least at the moment he was still quite good.  That was until Dean tried bending the finger next to it and he hissed in pain.

“Not so much huh.”

“We should take you to a hospital,” Sam supplied from the corner of the room. “Get you checked out just to be sure.”

“The kid’s got a point, Cas. They’re looking pretty bad.”

“And say what? Hey, he punched a wall, doesn’t have an insurance and can’t exactly fake one anymore. Look Dean, I appreciate it but it will heal on its own.” It would, eventually and hell yes, it would hurt but that had partially been his point.

Dean sighed, before throwing his brother his wallet. “Sam, go run out and grab some whatever they’re willing to give over the counter.” He waited until Sam had pulled the door closed behind him to speak again, disapproval clear in his voice. “Why did you do that Cas?”

“Why do you think Dean. This hasn’t exactly been a smooth ride so far.” He shook his head. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about. “The entirety of this thing hasn’t exactly been a smooth ride. I’m not cut out to be a hunter, to handle these things.”

“This is not the way to deal with it,” Dean bit back, “what were you even thinking man? Hey, this hurts but it feels good so I’ll do it again? You know that it doesn’t help.”

“Dean, I don’t expect you to understand. You can go out and you punch some people. Feels real good right, to take a werewolf out? Vampire? Supernatural creature in general? Well it feels like crap to me. Knowing that I ended that, whatever life they had. I can’t okay. You can, but I can’t. So if this is the way that I choose to deal with it, you don’t have the right to say anything. I internalize my anger, you out those in the creatures. Two times the same thing and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

“Damn it Cas, there’s a difference and you damn well know it.” He knew, part of him did at least. Dean didn’t say anything else before dragging him to his feet and holding his hand in the sink, pouring some peroxide on his hand. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” _It’s good_. “Look, Cas. If you ever need to call, you just call okay? I know that I am all for ‘no chick flick moments’ but I don’t care okay. Even if you just need to vent just call.”

“Thank you.” Castiel _knew_ that he wasn’t going to call, but he appreciated it anyway, even if Dean probably didn’t quite mean it.

“When Sam comes back, you’re going to sleep okay? You’re freezing. I probably shouldn’t even give you pills but you’ll need them not to wake up from the pain tomorrow.” He spoke as he bandaged up his hand, putting the disinfectant on the gauze and wrapping it up. “Remind me to change the dressing tomorrow morning.”

 

It was a little after that, as Castiel was already sitting on Dean’s bed with his knees pulled up that Sam came back with the pills. They weren’t strong enough to really completely numb the pain but they helped so he was glad to have them. He was ready to crawl on the couch and pull the blanket over him. It wouldn’t be the best spot to sleep but it was what he was used to. Both Winchesters were too tall for the couch anyway.

“Oh no you’re not,” Dean huffed, pulling him back up. “If we let you sleep on the couch you’re out again before we know it.” And yeah, that would have been true if the pills hadn’t been that effective. He’d taken probably too many, more than was good for him, but he honestly didn’t really care. “Come, the bed will help you sleep a little bit faster. I can sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t want to steal your bed.”

“Well you’re not stealing, I’m offering.” Dean walked him to the bed, even going the length to tuck him in and make sure that he wouldn’t move or try to get away. “Go to sleep Cas.”

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

Castiel woke up screaming. Or at least, he was pretty sure that he was still screaming by the time that Dean shook him awake. The light filtered through the windows and Sam’s bed was empty, so it had to be later during the evening, but Dean was still in his PJ’s. Castiel felt wrecked, as if he had been through battle.

“Cas? Cas. Calm down. It’s okay you’re safe, it’s okay.” He fought against Dean’s grip, eventually calming down when Dean kept whispering and kept reassuring him that it was fine. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He was gathered into Dean’s arms, head against his chest. No matter how awkward it was, Dean’s heartbeat calmed him down, made him feel a little bit better about himself. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’m good. I’m okay now.” He could breathe again.

 

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

John came and took his only grip on reality away from him. The hunt was over and the companionship was as well. Dean made him promise to call, but he never did. All he did was drift, hit the road.

Castiel didn't look back.

 


	6. 2015 // Epilogue

 

_“I gaze at you, my shining star_

_and wonder why you chose me;_

_this broken little fragment_

_and brought me into your life_

_Your light has given me purpose_

_and mended jagged wounds_

_In return I give my devotion_

_It is all I have to give."_

**— It is the only thing that is not shattered // s.a**

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

Time passed by weirdly after that. It took a few days and weeks but slowly, Dean came around again. Castiel remembered it as if it was yesterday, feeling that light squeeze or seeing those eyes move for the first time. He knew that it was nothing but a tiny start, but it was something.

It was better than before, when he’d been completely still. Castiel still read to him every day, read until his voice became raspy and dry. He drank more water than he usually did, and teas. Even stopped with his cigarettes even if it was just for a little while. He smoked less, which was a start. Sam and Jessica stuck around for most of it, but eventually had to get back. Castiel promised them that he would call them the second that he woke up.

After three weeks, the doctors deemed him stable enough to completely get off any extra oxygen in amounts that were major. Even though he was still unconscious, he was functioning without any support. According to the doctors, he would either wake up or not wake up at all at this point. It was all a waiting game and slowly, Castiel was getting so sick of it.

“Hey Dean,” he sighed from the chair next to Dean’s bed, the one that had slowly become his own. "I'm sorry I didn’t come by yesterday – I had work. Yeah, you heard me. I got an actual job now.” He was smiling. Yesterday had been his first day at the library and even though he knew that it would get boring one day, he absolutely _loved_ it. “I recommended the one book that I started reading to a woman today. She seemed to be glad. You’re passing on your legacy Dean.” He sighed. “It’s actually fun in a library. A lot of hauling back and forth of books, getting them out of the archive downstairs for college students. I was this close to sneaking a  few dollars for a coffee into a copy of a critique on Jane Eyre. I pitied the girl. Not that I did end up doing that, you know that I wouldn’t keep my job for long if I did that, but I do hope she’ll look a little bit more relaxed when she comes to bring it back.” He had Dean’s fingers threaded in his, a lot more comfortable with doing it now.

With Sam and Jessica there, it had been different. Jessica hadn’t told Sam about his little crush on his brother, or at least, he didn’t think that she did. He hoped so at least. It wasn’t that he really minded. What he felt for Dean was something that he didn’t think he could ever say out loud, even if he would ever have the possibility to.

“I think that you’ll love the library though. It’s nice and calm. Books everywhere. They have two whole shelves dedicated to horror classics and just classics in general. So yeah, when you get back, I’m going to bring you along, how about that huh?” He smiled before pressing a gentle kiss to his fingers. “Hey, I’m going to meet with your doctors, no running off okay? I’ve been to patient for too long now to see you run away with a nurse okay.” He couldn’t help but grin. “I know, I’m being silly. The doctor is waiting though, so I should go.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dean’s head, surprised when the eyes opened and Dean was staring up at him.

He was hesitant. Dean had done this before, once and he had closed them again in a minute. The last thing he wanted to go was get his hopes up and get them shattered again.

“Dean?”

“Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded hoarse and wrong, but it was _him_. “Where? What?”

“Don’t move, don’t speak. I’m going to get a nurse okay.”

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

Dean’s hospital room was soon turned into doctor central as they checked him over for what seemed to be forever. He stepped out of the room, wanting to give them the privacy that they deserved for the tests. He needed to call Sam, to let him know that his brother was alive and thriving, to show him that he was good again. Or at least, that waswhat he hoped.

Time would tell and maybe he should wait a little bit before calling, make sure that Dean was indeed back one hundred percent. So he waited. He waited until the doctor came back with the news that Dean seemed to be alright, considering everything. He was showing signs of being okay again. He was conscious and breathing on his own, his heartbeat and pulse was nice and strong. It was okay. 

Dean was siting up in his bed, thoroughly annoyed at all the nurses swarming around him as they prodded him and asked him questions. The doctor had assured him that it was fine to come in though, that Dean had asked to.

“I thought you didn’t mind nurses. How are you Dean?”

“I somebody asks me that question one more time I am going to throw a fit,” he snapped. “I have no idea how I got here and what even happened.” So cas told him what he knew. It wasn’t a lot, but he told him anyway. Dean remembered everything until getting in a cab, so he supplied what happened after. At the mention of his brother visiting, he frowned.

“Sam came?”

“He was worried. Jessica came along. She’s a sweetheart, real kind. She’s good for him.”

“I’m glad.” He sighed. “I just slept for weeks but I am tired.”

“Then go to sleep. I can go if you want.” Castiel didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay, but if Dean wanted this, he would go. It wasn’t like it was that big of a deal. He could come back.

“Stay? Please.” He bit is lip. “Look Cas, sometimes, I heard you.” He shook his head. “And I know man. I know. I’ve been an idiot.”

“You are,” Castiel agreed. “But you had your reasons. Go to sleep Dean.” Only when Dean had drifted off, his hand clasped in Castiel’s. “You’re going to be okay Dean. Everything is going to be okay.” For the first time in a while, Castiel actually believed it. Knew that he’d be on that passenger seat again, not driving because Dean had his baby. He knew that things would be okay.

Not tomorrow no and not soon, but Dean would be home again, his keys would be back with Castiel’s. He’d have his Dean back.

**Author's Note:**

> ... And we're here, finally. This has been such a long time coming, but I'm glad it's here. I most sincerely hope that you enjoyed reading this fic. Thank you for making it to the end.  <3
> 
> I owe major thanks to chemart over at Livejournal for creating the wonderful art that she created. Please if you can check it out over at Deviant art if you can and leave her a kind comment. The links are as followed; [the swing scene](http://chem2art.deviantart.com/art/Swing-565742951) and [the bar scene](http://chem2art.deviantart.com/art/At-the-Bar-565742714). Both of these will be added to the scenes where they belong soon.
> 
> If you want to know what inspired this fic, you can find my inspiration over at my [inspiration Tumblr](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/tagged/fic:%20passenger%20seat). (Content warning for blood & gore/suicidal thoughts/depression). 
> 
> If you did enjoy it, have a comment or spotted a mistake, I would love to hear from you. Be it in a comment/ask/anything I don't really care.


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